


Hit the ground running

by An_abundance_of_squids



Series: The fortress division [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Action, Complete, Gen, No Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-07-10 19:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7000891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_abundance_of_squids/pseuds/An_abundance_of_squids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meet the BLU scout. He - alongside his team - have fought everything from their doubles, robots and maybe even aliens and have still (somehow) come out ontop. But when a new enemy, the likes of which he's never seen before takes ahold of the other side of the scoreboard, he suddenly finds that perhaps his position in this so-called 'team' of thieves and murderers is much more precarious than he thinks....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 30 Seconds

 

_Now loading cp_dustbowl..._

* * *

Gunfire.

 

The noise tore through the previously still air, contested only by the sound of an air raid siren.

A woman's voice blared over the loudspeaker system, but no one gave any attention to it. They all knew what to do.

Scout grinned.

Behind him, he could hear the crackle of a fully charged medi-gun, alongside the low, whirring noise as Medic and heavy followed him out of the building, ready to take on the onslaught of red clothed doubles that they called their enemies.

Weaving his way through the spray of bullets, he made it past the two men guarding their exit out of the respawn zone. While one of them - a Demoman - had been too busy to notice the speedster pass, his red suited companion had. Unfortunately for the Pyro however, the Scout was faster than its axe as he sent two shots into the thing's back.

Another two shots felled his (her? its?) companion.

Scout didn't even pause as he spun around and sprinted to the control point.

Up head, he could see a Soldier, along with a Medic approaching. Running full tilt towards them, he strafed to the right at the last possible moment.

A point-blank shot from a force-of-nature was enough to send the Soldier flying backwards, away from the Medic and out of the range of his medigun.

Medic however spun around to face his attacker, withdrawing a bloodstained bonesaw as he did so. Scout quickly ejected two shells from his gun, hoping to reload it before the german managed to swing his weapon. The RED Medic did manage to swing it, but his hit glanced off the barrel of his opponents reloading gun as the BLU agent brought it up in an almost automatic gesture of self-defence.

The Medic snarled something in German and drew back the saw for another strike, but before he could, the American snapped the barrel of his gun shut and fired two shots directly into the man's chest.

 

"Where's ya hip-o-cratic oath now huh?" he said grinning as he inspected his handiwork, ejecting two more empty shells from his modified shotgun.

 

Three kills within the first thirty seconds of the mission? That had to be a new record of some sort. He grinned wider as he fully loaded his gun once more, turning to once more face the control point.

A sudden, bloodcurdling yell of fury made him start as the Soldier the Medic had been healing suddenly noticed Scout. Instinctively, he pumped two more shots from his gun into the Solider, but it did relatively little to the overhealed defender.

Backpedalling furiously, Scout tried to get himself away from the furious soldier, but some small part of him knew it was useless. A well placed rocket would send him back to respawn faster tha-

 

**BOOM**

 

A sudden explosion jolted him back into reality as his attackers head suddenly exploded into a small shower of brain and skull fragments. The body fell, revealing the tall form of Sniper standing in the door leading to respawn.

Scout grinned and gave the Australian a quick thumbs up in thanks as her turned and sprinted off towards the capture point. Who was his mind kidding? He was the Scout! He was a freaking force of nature! Hell, he could win this war single handedly if Spy wasn't such a damn prick about it! He was freaking invi-

 

**BEEP**

 

That one noise.

 

That one noise suddenly shook the Bostonian back into the cold, harsh reality of the battlefield.

He knew that noise all too well. He hated and dreaded it with every fibre of his being.

 

He tried to stop, to turn around and look for another way around the sentry, but he was going too fast. The momentum of his speed sent him tumbling forwards, right into the view of the red level three sentry set up behind the corner.

The rockets hit first, exploding into his ribs, shattering them into a mess of bone shards that not even a medi-gun could heal. He let out a shrill scream of pain as the impact slammed him into the ground. Instantly followed by a sickening crack as several more bones cracked under the impact.

For a brief, nauseating moment, Scout could see everything around him on the battlefield, despite the pain that was searing through his body right now. To his far left, the white coated figure of their Medic was visible, too busy focused on the heavy beside him to notice the dying runner. Scout let out a pained cry for the doctor's aid, but even before the words left his lips, he knew it was of no use. The doctor rarely, if ever came to help Scout, always preferring to hover around the more robust defence classes. Just out of the corner of the right side of his vision, there was a blue shimmer in the air as their Spy stealthily made his way around to take down the incoming opponents.

 

And right in front of him, goggled eyes looking down at his fallen corpse was the red wearing form of the Engineer, wrench in hand as he grinned down at the dying form of his sentry's first kill of the day. Behind him stood the red, masked figure of the Pyro, clouded glass eyes showing not even the slightest hint of emotion.

 

And then his vision suddenly turned black as the cold mercy of death finally and suddenly overtook him.

 

* * *

 

Respawn was a confusing and terrifying experience.

 

That moment of being neither here nor there terrified Scout.

It was painless - hell, he knew that Spy and Medic _enjoyed_ those few moments of purgatory for some sick reason - But for him, it unnerved him even more than the faceless thing that was the Pyro.

No matter how many times he died and respawned, the process always seemed to take slightly longer than he expected. And that one second was what scared him the most, that one second of unknowing as the process took longer than expected, always making you worry if something had gone wrong with the system, _always_ fooling in to think that you might spend the rest of eternity in this limbo.

 

And then, with a sudden, lurid flash, the Scout was back in the respawn room.

He collapsed to the floor as his ribs was wracked with a phantom pain where the rockets had hit not a minute earlier.

Moments later, there was another flash and Medic suddenly appeared, hands clutching his head. Unlike Scout, he managed to keep his balance, instead dizzily swaying about for a few moments before coming to a halt.

 

"Headshot?" Scout asked, picking up his discarded force-a-nature and inspecting it for damage. Their Engie had reassured him that the respawn process didn't harm their guns, but one couldn't be too sure.

 

"Ja." The German replied, adjusting his glasses and unhooking his medigun from the side of the box on his back. "You?"

 

"Freakin' hardhat and his freakin' sentry." Scout muttered. "Where's that goddamn frenchie when you freakin' need 'im?"

 

" _Ici_." An accented voice said, the figure of a man shimmering into view.

 

"Jesus!" Scout suddenly yelled, jumping and aiming the gun at the Frenchman. The man just smiled and brought out a silver cigarette case.

 

"Bonjour Scout. I see you have met a terrible fate." He smirked. " _Again_."

 

"Hey! That ain't my fault! You didn't sap the freaking sentry!"

 

"Perhaps you require a change of tactics. I cannot 'sap' every sentry you happen to find."

 

"A change of what?"

 

"A change of modus operandi. A different way of attacking."

 

"Oh no you don't! I ain't some dirty backstabbin' bastard like you pal!"

 

"I never suggested that. Merely that maybe you should think before you run out onto a live battle like a headless chicken."

 

"Think? Think? Hey, thinking ain't my shtick pal. If I stopped to think about shit all the time, I'd be waaaay too slow! An' anyways, it ain't like you got a better idea, do'ya?"

 

"Actually if you were to-"

 

"Right, I'm bored. Gonna go shoot some shit. Cya later chucklenuts!" Scout turned and dashed off out of the respawn room.

 

Idiot. Why the hell would he need to change? Spy knew nothing about how to do his job!

 

"Freaking idiot." Scout muttered, running towards the point. "Why the freaking hell does he think he can tell me what to do? I ain't some kid! It ain't like he ever does anything useful!" He jumped up to the platform and onto the point. The metal plate at his feet buzzed into life as he stepped on it, emitting a low hum as it did so.

He smiled.

This match was going to be a piece of-

 

* * *

 

"- _piss_." The Australian swore, slamming the fridge door shut with a bang. "How'da bloody hell did we lose that?!"

 

"I don't know _mate_." Scout said, momentarily mimicking the Sniper's dialect. "You're the one with the freaking scope. You tell me."

 

" _Watch it._ " Sniper warned, giving Scout a withering look.

Scout shrugged and leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, balancing it on its back two legs. Using his feet to balance himself on the kitchen table, he pulled out a purple can of soda from his bag and opened it. Taking a draught from the can, he stopped to think about the match.

Everything had been just fine (bar that run in with that backstabbing bastard) right until they needed to capture the second point. It wasn't his fault really. It was just that the RED Sniper was so freaking good with his freaking bow and arrows. Who the hell brings a bow to a gun fight anyway? Freaking idiots, that's who. Scout made a mental note to report that Sniper for cheating (or as Scout insisted on calling it, hacks). There was absolutely no way someone could be that good a shot...

 

"Ah-HEM!"

Scout was suddenly dragged out of his musings by the loud sound of someone violently clearing his throat. Even without looking up, he knew that the large, angry form of the soldier was looming over him.

He lifted his head up, eyes darting across the room for the sniper or for some other means of distraction. But the Australian had long left — presumably to concoct more jarate — leaving him the only person within a ten metre radius of the angry attacker. Desperate to get away, the runner entertained the idea of deliberately losing his balance and smashing his head on the tiled floor below, earning him a trip down to Medic's office and a way out of the situation, but he decided against it — it really wasn't worth the risk of finding another dove in his chest.

 

"Eh...hi?"

 

"YOU!" The man bellowed, his face suddenly inches away from Scout's. "We LOST!"

 

"Eh, we all lose sometimes pal."

 

"What kind of answer is that MAGGOT?!" he grabbed Scout by the scruff of his top and pulled him up into a standing position. "No man should EVER take defeat as option! What were you doing on the frontlines?!"

 

"I was running about dumbass. What el–"

 

"You were RUNNING?!" Soldier shook the man violently, making Scout start to regret his choice about the doctor's office. "No man of mine would EVER run on the battlefield, you yellow-bellied COWARD! And there is no room for cowards in MY WORLD!"

 

"Watch it pal. Just 'cause I ain't some rocket wielding crazy like doesn't mean I ain't a freaking asset. Besides, it ain't like you were the MVP of the match."

 

"STOP speaking in your communist riddles and speak AMERICAN cadet! This is WAR, not some childish GAME!" Soldier dropped Scout and he landed back in the chair he'd been occupying. "I don't know what war you fought in private, but it certainly wasn't MINE!"

 

"I ain't been in any freaking war pal. I have no freakin' idea what ya talking about."

 

"Then what. Are. THOSE?" Soldier yelled, interjecting each word with a jab at Scout's dog tags.

 

"Hey! Don't touch those!" Scout yelled, grabbing the militant's hand.

 

"They aren't yours, are they? No American war would let a filthy COWARD like you fight in their ra-"

 

**BLAM**

 

With the speed he was known for, Scout punched soldier mid-sentence right in gut. While he did lack the strength possessed by his other teammates, his attack was going fast enough to knock the unprepared soldier off his feet and onto the ground.

 

"Don't know when to stop, do ya pal?" Scout said, kneeling down to look the fallen man in the eye. "I ain't some kid you can just tell off pal. I'm on this team because I'm the freaking best at what I do. I'm the best freaking guy on the team and you know it. An' you know freaking nothing about me pal. Nothing. You got that pal?"

There was only a tension filled silence as Soldier stared at Scout in a mixture of surprise, rage and disbelief.

Scout grinned and got up, turning away from the man to exit the room.

 

He didn't even see the shovel as Soldier slammed its blade into the back of Scout's head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a thing now. A thing which I seem to be constanly changing and evolving as time go on and I reaslise that I've made yet anpther stupid plot hole. Ouch.


	2. Concussions and reprocussions

_Coo_

 

Scout groaned.

Stupid bird.

What the freaking hell was Archimedes doing here? Archimedes wasn't allowed in the kitchen! Not after what happened last time…

 

"Scout?"

 

A voice suddenly broke through his sluggish thoughts, jolting him back to reality. He was lying on the hard tile of the kitchen floor, but he couldn't remember how he'd gotten there. The back of his head was wet with something, but for some reason he couldn't feel whatever wound he'd attained there.

No, his mind was more occupied with the splitting headache that wracked his head, preventing him from thinking clearly.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position and cracked open his eyes.

The world before him was a nauseating, unfocused mess of blues and greys that threatened to unbalance him. He felt himself start to fall, but someone put a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

 

"Scout?" The voice repeated. Scout instantly shut his eyes, in an effort to try and endure the pain. The speaker sighed and shook him gently. " _Nein_. Open your eyes. Now focus on me." He opened his eyes again. Before him, he could see the speaker, his brown eyes filled with a strange mixture of concern and irritation.

 

"Uh…Medic?" He finally said after several moments of silent blinking. "Dude…what happened?"

 

"Do you not remember?" He asked.

 

"Nah dude. Last thing I remember was us losin' that match. An' then…" He frowned, and then instantly regretted it, the action sending another bolt of pain though his mind. "Jesus, my head."

 

Medic sighed and unhooked his medigun from the side of his pack. For once, he'd been hoping that he could just have lunch without some dummkopf hurting himself, but alas, that never happened. Training the gun on the injured runner, he activated it.

Instantly, the pain ceased and the large wound on the back of Scout's head sealed, leaving nearly no trace of what had happened.

Scout got up and turned to the medic. Grinning, he gave the man a thumbs up. His head still felt a bit weird, but it didn't hurt now. And that was all that mattered, right?

Medic shrugged and turned to the fridge to get some lunch.

 

* * *

 

 

"Hiya Engie!"

 

The hardhatted Texan looked up from his sentry to see the grinning form of Scout standing over him, a purple can of soda in his hands.

The engineer muttered a reply and looked back down at his work, ignoring the Scout as he hovered over him.

 

"Sooo... watcha workin' on hardhat?" He asked, looking around at the desk before him and the Texan, littered with countless projects and half-finished blueprints.  

 

"Recalibrating mah sentry." He said, not looking up from his work.

Scout, having no idea what calibration was, just stared blankly at Engineer before looking back to the desk. There was  _a lot_ of really cool stuff here, a ray gun of some sort, what looked like a half finished cyborg arm, a grappling hook...

 

"So..." Scout said after several seconds of silence. "Didya see me last match? I was _awesome!"_ He picked up the grappling hook and examined it. Now  _this_ looked both interesting  _and_ unlikely to explode on him at any moment. 

 

"Scout, ah think we lost that one. That certainly ain't a thing to be proud of."

 

"Well, that ain't my fault. That freaking Sniper was cheating!" He slipped the device away into his bag pocket, knowing that the Engineer was too busy working on his project to notice the theft. And anyways, it wasn't like he was going to miss  _one lousy thing_ , was it?

 

"Ah don't see how..."

 

"Ya don't? Pal, he freaking headshotted me! With that freaking bow! That's freaking impossible! No one, and I mean no one can headshot me! I'm so freaking fast and my head's so freaking small he can't hit it!"

 

"Ah don't think that's cheating son."

 

"Then how the freakin' hell-"

 

"Sniper's a good shot son. Ah thought you'd know that by now."

 

"He ain't that good a shot!" Scout protested. "He can't hit me!"

Engineer sighed. There wasn't really a point to this argument - they both knew that Scout would _never_ back down.

"I mean, the first time could'a been a fluke, but then he freaking did it again! There is no freaking way that was a fluke!"

 

"Look-" He said, looking around the room for something to distract Scout. His eyes caught the blue suited figure of their Pyro on the other side of the room, a disassembled flamethrower in front of it. "Why doncha go over and talk to Pyro over there? Ah reckon he'd be a better audience than mah."

 

At the mention of the firebug's name, Scout's eyes widened in fear. He couldn't be serious. He couldn't be.

 

"You're kidding. You're kidding right?"

 

"Nope. Ah reckon he could use the company."

 

"But…but…that things a freakin' maniac!" Scout lowered his voice to a whisper. "I ain't talking to…to _her_. He's freaking _insane_. She'll set me on freaking fire and laugh about it!"

 

"Scout, ya have no idea what ya talkin' about. He's just as crazy as the rest of us. An' ah think that says somthin' about the sanity of tha team."

 

"But…" Scout whined, his fear not quite gone.

 

"Mmrph?" A voice behind scout asked.

 

Scout screamed.

Suddenly aware of the person behind him, he launched himself at the engineer, grabbing onto him like a small child. His face was an ashen white and his body trembled slightly from fear. He could feel the acidic bite of bile in his throat as a wave of nausea hit him suddenly.

 

Pyro sighed and gave what might've been a disapproving glare at the engineer.

"Hmrph mrrh mrph?"

 

"Ah'm sorry Py, but how else am ah gonna get rid of him?"

 

"Hrrmph…thmmph hmrph mmphm?"

 

"You ain't serious. That'd encourage him!"

There was more said, but Scout couldn't hear it. That strange feeling that'd taken over his mind before had evolved into full on nausea thanks to the fear that was currently drowning his mind. Someone picked him up, but his mind had already faded too deep into unconsciousness for him to notice.

 

* * *

 

 

The sharp smell of medicinal supplied, mingled with the sour smell of sauerkraut and the dusty smell of birds was what first brought scout to his senses.

His head was hurting again.

He groaned and rolled over to his side, finding himself on top of the white sheets of a bed. The wall to his left was made up of a pattern of off-white and blue tiles, covered with splatters of the faint, rust brown of old blood stains that had failed to be completely washed off.

He rolled over to his other side, observing the other side of the doctor's office he had found himself in.

To the very left, he could see an open bird cage with a couple of doves in them, their occupants cooing softly and preening their pristine white feathers. Beside it was a frighteningly realistic skeleton, a relic from Medic's past from back when he actually had a medical license - or rather, if his story was to be believed, the reason why he lost it in the first place.

On the other side of the room was an old, wooden bookcase full of texts - worn philosophy books with black covers and German titles and medical textbooks with their once colorful outsides now faded to pale yellows and greens. Next to it was a metal draw on wheels with an array of metal tools spread out on its surface, including the doctors (impressive) selection of bone saws, along with half a dozen sharp metal things that scout _really_ didn't want to imagine the use of right now.

There was a window set just to the right of the centre wall, its dusty panes open to reveal the orange desert landscape of New Mexico that surrounded their base. Beside it was a well-used desk, with papers scattered all around and on it, a rubbish bin full of paper and bird droppings hastily shoved underneath it. Several more books lay on the desk, each one open to a different page displaying some aspect of the human body. Pushed to the side was a large computer screen, its bulky form taking up a quarter of the desk, its screen black with slowly pulsing neon blue text.

And in the centre of the desk's entropy, sitting on a simple steel chair with his lab coat and gloves slung over the back, was the tall, pale form of The Medic.

He was hunched over the desk, the bloodstained form of his bird Archimedes perched on his shoulder, apparently interested in whatever his master was doing. He had a fountain pen in his hand and was scratching away at something, his attention solely on his task. Beside him, a mounted photo stood, its contents too far away for scout to make any details out on. One of the many iterations of the medigun was hanging from the desk, its hose-like end dangling down from the edge. An empty jar sat right next to the man, empty but still somehow the source of the sour odour of the German's late lunch.

Scout sat up, fear slowly seeping into his mind. Who knew what that madman had done to him while he was out? And furthermore, how did he get here in the first place?

The dove on the Medic's shoulder gave a small coo and flew over to scout. It's once pristine white feathers were tipped with the dark brown of dried blood. Scout winced a little as the memory of when the doctor had 'accidentally' trapped the bird in him came back to him. He petted the dove, and it let out a pleased coo in response.

The doctor turned, his work interrupted by the call of his bird.

 

"Ah! Scout!" He said, getting up and smiled, something that only unnerved Scout even more. He walked over to the scout, pushing his glasses up his nose as he did so. "How are ve feeling today?"

 

"Oh Christ..." Scout swore. "You're smiling. You got that evil villain look again...you did something to me didn't ya? What did you do me ya nazi!?"

 

"Vhat? I assure you I did nothing. But," He leaned in closer to scout, his voice now a hiss. "If you call me that again, I cannot guarantee that I won't next time. _verstehen_?" Scout nodded, too scared to do otherwise.

 

"Good. Now, how do you feel?"

 

"My head hurts. And it feels weird. You did do something, didn't ya?

 

" _Nein._ " Medic replied, annoyance clear in his voice. "I have not done anything to you. You have a concussion."

 

"A con-what?"

 

"A concussion. Caused by a heavy trauma to the head."

 

"What the freaking hell are ya talking about? I ain't gonna find another pigeon in my chest, am I?"

 

Medic groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Scout, Archimedes is a dove not a pigeon. There are no doves in you right now and _I haff not done anything to you._ You haff a concussion. You will need to be suspended from battle for the next two days so-"

 

" _Two days!_ " Scout exclaimed, cutting the Medic off. "but…but that's like…" He shook his head, only to wince in pain as the movement hurt it. "I can't leave for that long! You guys need me! Are you ab-solut-ly freaking sure I need this? Can't ya just zap me with your medi…medi…heal gun thingy?"

 

"Scout, ze medigun does not work like that. This isn't a wound I can instantly heal, this needs time. Believe me Scout, if I could, I would. Do you think you are the only one having their pay docked this week?"

 

"What? Are ya telling me that I don't even get paid? Goddamn that freaking bitch!" He flopped back onto the bed.

 

"It is only two days Scout. You'll be back to fighting by Friday."

 

"But you guys need me! I mean, I'm the only decent attacker on the team! Soldier's a freaking idiot and all Pyro ever does it stand around babysitting Engie! You an' Heavy are too slow and I don't even know if Spy's on our freaking side!"

 

"Scout, you are not fighting. That. Is. Final."

 

"Aww, come on doc! y'know what the team's like the most - you know I'm right!"

 

" _Nein_!"

 

"Jesus, I thought you didn't care about what happened to me as long as you could do your sick experiments! Why do you care about me all of a freaking sudden!?"

Medic took of his glasses and rubbed his temples, reassuring himself that this was just a temporary effect of the concussion. To be entirely honest, he didn't like the idea of scout having two days off unsupervised in the base either. He would've preferred to send him back to Teufort, but they weren't due back for another week and he knew that The Administrator wouldn't allow anyone, injured or otherwise to leave early.

He sighed. They'd just all have to manage.

 

 


	3. The third chapter

_Now loading ctf_doublecross…_

* * *

*boink* *boink* *boink*

 

 

Scout groaned as he threw the baseball at the blue cement wall of the base again and again, only to catch it as it bounced back into his hand.

 

He was bored.

 

RED had attacked again and per Medic's instructions, he'd been forced to stay out. So while the two teams were fiercely battling for each other's intelligence, he was here, doing nothing but bouncing his baseball.

He was sitting at the long table usually reserved for team meetings just below the intelligence room in the BLU base at doublecross. From his vantage point, he could see the shape of Engineer and his sentry though the glass wall that separated the intelligence from him.

The room he was in wasn't very interesting. On the wall opposite the window was a matrix of light up signs, currently stating Scout's current medical leave. On the other side, under the window was a whiteboard covered in the slanted cursive of the engineer. The board didn't contain anything interesting to scout - just some information about the latest security breach by something called "Black Mesa" and several diagrams of the various intelligence rooms across the multitude of BLU bases.

The table he was at was a dark blue with eleven seats - nine for each member of the team, one for miss Pauling and one at the head of the table for the seemingly non-existent but yet omnipresent Administrator. All the chairs were a cyan and (much to scouts chagrin) rather uncomfortable.

The walls were a slightly lighter shade of blue than the table and were bare of any decoration at all. The only other thing in the room was the doorway out and a metal staircase leading to the intelligence room.

Thankfully though, the climate here was a bit more agreeable than at dustbowl, meaning that the entire base didn't smell _that_ strongly of sweat.

It still stank though.

The boards behind him suddenly blinked and the announcer's voice blared through the loudspeaker system, telling them that their intelligence had been stolen. Up above in the intelligence, the crimson and green form of the RED Scout visible for just a moment as he sprinted out of the room, the blue briefcase they'd been tasked with protecting on his back.

He should've been there, raiding the other team's base for that intelligence. If he had been there, they would've won by now.

 

T _he enemy has captured our intelligence!_

 

The voice broke through Scout's thoughts, making him start. Damn that medic! He was fine! His head had stopped hurting ages ago! He looked up and saw the figure of Pyro join Engineer, flamethrower at the ready.

Scout watched as two more figures entered the room, each one wearing blue. The fight that ensued was short but devastating as the enemy Soldier and Medic managed to take out the sentry, as well as the two BLU mercenaries situated there.

 

_The enemy has taken our intelligence!_  The voice boomed.

 

Scout slammed a fist on the table and got up. That was it. He couldn't just sit by idly and let the other team win. Medic be damned, he was going in!

Grabbing his bag from under the seat, Scout sprinted off up the stairs that lead to their intelligence room. He was missing his hat and headset, and while his cap wasn't of much use in the night hours that the attack had come in, the lack of his headset meant that he had no way of communicating with the rest of his team.

Hopefully, he wouldn't need it.

Following the trail of papers, he pursued the intelligence-stealing duo down to the sewers, that lay beneath the two bases. Scout pulled his force-a-nature out of his bag and loaded it, ready to take down the two attackers.

While the Medic was easily shot down by two shots from his gun, the over-healed Solider wasn't going to go down so quickly. He spun around and fired a rocket, knocking Scout off his feet.

While the blast didn't kill him, the drop from the platform he was on to the ground several hundred feet below certainly did.

 

* * *

 

Ten seconds of mind-wrenching purgatory and then respawn.

 

There were two other members of his team in the room, but Scout ran by them before any of them could object to his presence on the field. He had to stop those two before...

 

_the enemy has captured our intelligence!_

 

Crap.

 

Without a single break in his pace, Scout quickly formulated a new plan. He would have to go after the RED intelligence himself.

He made his way back down to the sewers without any issues. The slowly fading corpse of his own body was still visible below the bridge, unnerving scout slightly. But he ran on.

Sprinting up the stairs, he encountered his first piece of trouble. The other team's sniper was at the head of the stairs, bow and in hand, his back to the scout as he sniped the BLU team from his hiding spot. While he fell quickly to the Scout's gun, he knew that the entire base was probably now alerted to the Bostonian's presence.

Running straight ahead, he cut in front of the RED respawn, making his way across the wooden floor to the back entrance of the intelligence room.

Double jumping the railing, he landed just outside the room.

The room was empty as he ran in, gun to the ready. The red intelligence briefcase lay on the floor, papers haphazardly sticking out of its two shut halves.

Ignoring the intelligence for now, scout went to the other entrance to the room and looked out if it. On the other side, blocking his only exit out, was a red sentry, beeping occasionally. Walking back to the intelligence, he fished out a pale blue can of soda from his back and opened it.

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the intelligence and down the can's contents. Instantly, he felt his mind and heart rate quicken as the drink sent his entire body into a radioactive power overdrive.

He burst out of the intelligence, his sudden presence attracting the attention of the sentry and its engineer. He weaved his way through its barrage of bullets and rockets, each hit a miss as every step came down faster than the last, too fast for the sentry's guidance system could follow. He sped into the small building in the courtyard and jumped the railing down to the sewers moments before the drink's effect wore off.

He landed on the hard ground below with a crunch that sent bolts of pain running through his entire body. Leaning against a wall, he struggled to find his breath again, all his energy taken from him by that one super powered dash. Despite what they might've thought on the team, he didn't have endless energy.

Pushing himself off the wall, he forced himself forwards. He could rest later when the intelligence on his back was safe. But now...

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed through the sewers. The Scout pulled out his gun just in time to see the red doppelgänger of himself speed around the corner, a baseball bat and ball in hand.

For a split second, the two looked at each other in surprise. Obviously neither of them had expected to find the other here.

The RED agent acted first, slamming the baseball into the other Scout's head, the impact of the leather ball smashing his head into the wall behind him.

Normally, such an attack at such a range would've only caused minor confusion for a few seconds, but piled on top of the concussion, it was enough to send the Scout to the ground. His vision swam before him as he hit the hard concrete. There was a bang, but he didn't feel anything as the other Scout fired his scattergun.

His vision still swimming, he wildly aimed and fired his modified shotgun in a blind attempt to hit the other player.

The point blank shot from the force-a-nature sent his doppelgänger flying backwards. Using the wall to support him, the BLU Scout grabbed the other Scout's baseball and stood up.

 

"Think fast chucklenuts!" He yelled, pitching the ball at him with all the speed and power of a professional baseball player. The ball hit the wounded scout in the chest, knocking the life out of him.

Walking over to the corpse, he looked down at it and grinned.

 

"Sorry pal, but you're out." He said (as if his victim could still hear him), slinging his gun over his shoulder.

Using the last dregs of adrenaline left in him, he turned and ran out of the RED sewers and into the ones below his home base.

Running into the relative safety blue painted walls below his base, Scout felt his pace grow slower as his mind finally caught up to the rest of his body.

He suddenly noticed that his left side was bleeding from where the other runner had shot him. He hadn't noticed it earlier, thanks to the pain in his head, but now he was painfully aware of the wound. leaning against the wall, he slid down to the ground. A hand went to ear in an attempt to contact the rest of his team with his headset, only to remember that he'd left it in Medic's office.

 

" _Shit_." He breathed, wincing as the action loosed a bolt of pain from his injured side. Without his headset, he couldn't call for help without alerting the other team.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed through the tunnels, cutting the Scout's breathing short. If that was someone on the other team, he was dead. He sat there, absolutely silent as the sound of heavy footsteps grew closer...

 

"Scout?" A familiar voice asked as a figure in a pale blue coat rounded the bend and appeared in scouts vision.

Scout let out a shaky sigh of relief as the BLU medic rushed over to him, bone saw to the ready.

 

"Scout? Vat is wrong?"

 

"Ah jeez... where do I even freaking begin..."

The Medic bent down to Scout's level, his eyes meeting Scout's. There was something about those steel blue eyes that seemed off to him, but his head was too addled to figure out what.

 

"That freaking Scout hit me with his freaking baseball and now my head hurts real bad doc." He winced again and put a hand to the affected area.

The Medic however, didn't seem to be concerned with that. He was Instead looking at the dog tags around his neck.

 

"I did not take you for the sentimental type _herr_ Scout."

 

"Hey there's a lot you don't know about me pal."

 

"Hrmph. Perhaps you are right." He said, a blue gloves hand picking the tags off scout's top.

There was a pause as Scout tried to figure what was going on. The nagging feeling that there was something wrong was refusing to go away and his aching head was doing nothing to help.

 

"She didn't want you to be mercenary." He said, his usually hard voice now strangely quiet. "She wanted me to stop you, but it was too late."

 

"She..?" Scout's eyes widened as suddenly, he figured what was off. Medic didn't have blue eyes. He had brown ones. Only two people on the team had eyes like the piercing blue pair that was staring at him now – himself and...

 

"You're a freaking Spy!" The Scout exclaimed. He tried to jump up, but the now exposed Spy suddenly tightened his grip on the Scout's dog tags, dragging him back down.

 

_"Bonjour mon ami._ " The Frenchman purred, his disguise disappearing in a puff of smoke. From his other hand he produced a butterfly knife.

 

"It has been a while, _non_?" He grinned, expertly twirling the knife around before letting it come to a rest at Scout's throat.

 

"Been awhile since what, ya double-crossin' French frog? Since ya didn't suck?"

 

"Hmm…no, that's your mother's job." He evilly grinned as he savoured the look of horror and disgust that washed over the scout's face.

 

"Christ…really pal? _Really?_ …" He tried to shuffle backwards, away from the Spy, but the man's grip on Scout's dog tags prevented him from going anywhere. "Just kill me already willya? Or get outta my face ya sick creep."

 

"Oh, of course I'll kill you. " He said leaning in, the stench of his cigarette stained breath so strong Scout nearly gagged. "Do you have anything you want me to say to your mother later?"

 

"Ymph. Hrrpmh mrpgh mrpph." Another voice said behind them. There was the sound of a shot being fired and suddenly, the Spy's head spectacularly exploded all over Scout in an explosion of fire and brain.

 

There was a click and the Spy's body slid down to reveal the blue suited form of the Pyro behind him.

Scout sat there, paralysed in fear, unsure of whether he should run from the potentially dangerous pyromaniac or thank the...thing for saving his life.

The thing made a confused noise and bent down to be at eye level at the paralysed mercenary.

Slowly, Scout looked up and gave a nervous grin.

 

"Thanks...?" He swallowed nervously, unsure of how to deal with this sudden complication.

The fire-starter pulled Scout up by the shoulder and looked at him.

 

"Jeez...I'm fine pal. Just need Medic..." He sucked in a sharp breath and stood up to his full height. The thing shrugged and put away its orange and grey flare gun and pulled its dragon-headed flamethrower from off its back.

The duo traipsed out of the sewers and into the BLU base proper, with Scout in the lead and Pyro following errantly behind.

 

* * *

 

"Yo guys!" Scout yelled, bursting into the intelligence room. "I'm back!" He shrugged the intelligence off his back and dropped it onto the floor. "And I got the freaking intelligence! Engie! I need a dispenser here!"

The Engineer sharply looked up at the two intruders and growled. This wasn't turning out to be a good match at all. First the enemy had stolen the intelligence from right under him _twice,_ then Scout had run off despite Medic's orders and finally, Pyro had disappeared, forcing him to constantly go look for spies himself.

 

"And what have you two been doing?" He demanded as Scout collapsed on top of his dispenser.

 

"Our jobs moron." Scout retorted, gesturing at the red intelligence briefcase in the middle of the room.

 

"Ah thought Medic told'ya that you weren't fighting." He said, marching over to the dispenser and Scout.

 

"Well, I'm sorry, but I ain't sittin' around doing nuthing while you guys get freaking killed." He pulled himself up and inspected his side. "An' as you guys don't seem to wanna do it, I'm gonna go get the intelligence. Again." He turned to walk out of the room. "Buncha idiots. Why do I hav'ta do their freaking jobs? This is why the team nee-" His mutterings were suddenly cut short as the Texan grabbed Scout by the scruff of his shirt.

 

"Scout, you'll do as ya told an' get that flank o' yours back down-"

There was a sudden flurry of beeping as another form sped into the intelligence room right by the arguing duo.

 

"Whadup chucklenuts?" The red Scout yelled, giving the two the finger as he ran by and grabbed their blue briefcase. "This yo intelligence? 'Cause it's mine now!" He ran out the room laughing.

 

"Aw shit!" Scout swore, shoving the Engineer to the side and running after the red and lime-green speck that was the enemy Scout. He fired a shot after him, but his gun's range was too short for it to do any damage.

The two ran across the bridge, ignoring all the other fighters as they dodged their way past the gunfire and havoc created by the other members of the duelling team.

The two sped into the RED base, the other Scout momentarily turning to loose the magazine of his pistol at his pursuer.

The blue Scout dodged the shots and grinned. Up ahead was the courtyard, where he knew he could cut off the other Scout before he-

 

**BEEP**

 

Any thoughts of outmanoeuvring the other Scout disappeared as he ran full tilt into the open area, right into the path of the red sentry located just outside of the entrance.

The Scout didn't even have time to scream as the collective force of four explosive rockets hitting in the chest at once turned his ribcage into a mess of blood and bones.

 

* * *

 

_The enemy has captured our intelligence!_

_You lose!_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My god, that is such an old and stupid joke, I'm sorry. Squids is sorry. Chapter titles are hard.


	4. The brave and The reckless

Ten more seconds of limbo and then back to life once more.

Scout staggered around before coming to a halt inside the blood-spattered BLU respawn room. The match was over.

 

He had failed.

 

" _Shit._ " He swore, coming to a rest against the respawn room's health locker. His chest still hurt from where the rockets had hit only seconds ago.

Or what seemed like seconds ago. A quick glance at the room's clock showed that it was now six in the morning, a full four hours after the match.

Standing up, he looked around the white and blue room. It was empty of any life except for the pale form of one of Medic's many doves, who sat in the rafters, eyeing Scout suspiciously.

The bird let out an indignant coo and flew down onto his shoulder.

Scout sighed and walked towards the room's exit. He knew the rest of the team was going to be _pissed_ when they found out about what he did - despite the doctor's questionable practices, nobody in the entire team would _ever_ disobey a direct order from him, especially regarding their health.

He cautiously stepped outside the respawn room. While most the team wouldn't be up for another hour or so, he still had be careful for the likes of the Soldier and the Sniper. Running into one of them _would not_ be a pleasant experience right now.

He grumbled something and reached a hand into his bag to grab a can of crit-a-cola. Withdrawing nothing, he suddenly stopped and pulled the back off his back and unzipped it fully, rummaging around in it. There had to be another can here somewhere….

Finding nothing but ammo and magazines, Scout groaned and slung the bag back over his shoulder . He was tired and no soda meant nothing to keep him awake and active.

He paused for a moment as he contemplated his options. He could go back and hide in his room for the rest of the day, and face the team later when their tempers had hopefully simmered down and he was back to thinking clearly. Or he could stay here and endure the team's lectures as they woke up one by one.

Choosing the first option, he started to stealthily make his way through the base in the direction of his room.

He had made his way through the kitchen and was approaching the common area when a noise in the room ahead made him stop.

There was the sound of someone muttering in German and the rustling of papers as the room's occupant stirred.

Scout froze, unsure of what to do. Sneaking a glimpse into the other room, he caught sight of the Medic sitting at the room's table, his back to scout as he sat reading a newspaper, a large cup of black coloured coffee beside him.

Scout jerked his head back and considered his options. There was another way to the dormitories, but that requires going outside, and outside ment into the range of Sniper's scope and Soldier's daily yelling at heads. Or, he could sneak around Medic.

Choosing the latter, he got down on the ground and started to crawl into the room.

He had gotten about halfway across the room when suddenly, the dove that had been following him since respawn let out a squawk and flew over to its master.

The German's head snapped up at the noise, brown eyes searching the room for the cause of disturbance.

Scout lay on the ground, completely silent and praying that the man didn't get up and search the room himself.

 

" _Guten tag_ Scout." He said, eyes flicking back to the newspaper. "I know you are down there."

 

Scout swore as he stood up, brushing himself off. How the freaking hell had Medic seen him? He was _awesome_ at stealth! And he didn't need a stupid watch like Spy either! Muttering under his breath, he sat down at the opposite end of the table.

There was a silence as Scout expectantly looked at Medic.

 

"Go on." He finally said, unable to take the suspense. "Yell at me. Tell me I was being stupid and that I could'a killed myself."

 

"And why would I do that?"

 

"'Cause… 'cause it's what ya do. Hell, its what everyone here does. at me at least."

 

"And why do they do that?"

 

"I dunno."

 

"Because they see you as a child." The German replied, folding the newspaper and putting it to the side.

 

"A kid!? I ain't a kid! I'm freaking adult!" Scout indignantly protested. "How old do ya think I am? I'm freaking twenty-three!"

Medic gave scout a withering look.

"Fine. Nineteen. In a month. But still, just 'cause I ain't ancient or been in the freaking war don't mean I ain't a force to be reckoned with. Why the hell would they think I'm a freaking kid!?"

 

"Perhaps because you are reckless..."

 

"Reckless?! I ain't reckless!" Scout exclaimed. "I'm brave! That's what I am! I ain't afraid of anything! 'Cept maybe Pyro. But hell, everyone's scared of that… thing."

 

"There is a line between the brave and the reckless Scout. A fine one, but it is there."

 

"Yeah, well, does it matter what ya freaking call it? I still got more guts than ya! Doncha think it's a _little_ hyp-o-critical _you're_ telling me this crap, Herr Lets-all-hide-behind-Heavy?" Scout leaned back on his chair and grinned broadly, evidently thinking that he'd won the argument.

Medic groaned in annoyance and rubbed his temple. He had barely gotten any sleep last night (or, to be entirely honest, that week) and in retrospect, engaging an argumentative (and probably tired) Scout first thing in the morning without coffee or any form of painkiller to fortify himself was a rather idiotic move.

There was the sound of a door opening, followed by the sound of shoes against stone as the tanned form of Sniper appeared in the room's doorway, an empty thermos under his arm and a (still warm) jar of jarate in his hand.

 

"G'day doc!" he said cheerily, wandering over to the table where the duo sat. Putting the jar down next to Scout – who instantly recoiled from the container of yellow fluid – he took off his hat and sunglasses, examining the pair for a long, hard moment.

 

"And you mate, you bloody well need to explain yourself for last night." he said, pointing a torn and bitten fingernail at Scout. "What the blood hell were ya thinking, disobeying doc like that?"

The doctor in question sighed, glad that someone that wasn't him was dealing with the loud-mouthed brat that was the Scout. He sat there, half listening to Sniper's lecture as his mind slowly faded into the enveloping darkness of sleep.

 

* * *

 

Scout looked around him, panic starting to fill him. An hour had gone by since Sniper had appeared and the rest of the team had come down, and all of them (with the exception of Medic), were staring at him.

Normally, Scout would have revelled in such infamy, but now was not such a time. The only ones not staring at him accusingly were Medic, who was lying face down on the table, having long since fallen asleep, and Pyro, whose clouded glass eyes made gleaning any emotion from whatever being wore that blue suit an impossible task.

The lack of sleep from the night before was starting to catch up with him as he found himself staring at the sleeping man across from him, wishing that he could just conk out on the table like Medic had.

 

"Ah don't know what ta say here Scout. Ya disobeyed a direct order from Medic 'imself."

 

"What the fecking hell were you thinking, ya bloody ediot?"

 

"What the freaking hell guys! I went out there and got the freaking intelligence like I'm meant to! Boom! Problem solved! You guys should be freaking prasin' me, not yelling at me like some kid! Hell, we would'a won that if ya didn't try an' keep me outta the game for no freakin' reason!" Scout stood up to go, having finally had enough of the team's whining.

 

"Scout, _zat is not zi point!_ " Spy growled, moving to block Scout's path.

 

"Yeah? Well then, what is the freaking point already? 'Cause I ain't seeing one!"

 

"The point," Soldier yelled, pushing Spy out of the way. "Is that you disobeyed a DIRECT ORDER private! I should have you DISCHARGED for this DISGUSTING breach of rules!" he jabbed a finger at Scout's chest. "First yesterday and now THIS?! What do you have to say about this SCOUT!?"

 

"Yesterday?" Scout asked. "What the freaking hell did I do _yesterday_?"

 

"You physically ASSAULTED an OFFICER private!"

The room went silent as thirteen eyes stared at solider in confusion.

 

"I did _what_ no-" Scout's sentence was suddenly cut off as his face erupted into a large, shit-eating grin. "Freaking hell! I remember! I freaking knocked you out!"

The eyes turned to Scout and his scrawny figure with scepticism. 

"What?! Ya think these guns are for show?" He said, pumping his arm in an attempt to show off his (non-existent) biceps. "Christ, that was _awesome_! How the freaking hell did I forget that?"

There was a collective groan from the entire room as he said this, followed by the team shuffling away, not wanting to listen to a bout of Scout's boasting.

 

Scout collapsed back on chair, fatigue suddenly washing over him. He hadn't slept or eaten since the beginning of the match seven hours ago and his lack of energy was starting to catch up with him. The high intensity of his job meant that Scout had to spend a lot of time eating in an effort to replenish his lost energy, else he'd collapse to the floor in (worst case scenario), an exhaustion induced coma.

It'd happened once before and Scout was not willing to let it happen again. They'd pulled an all-nighter at 2fort, and Scout had gone for seven straight hours of intensive running without a break of any kind. In the end, he'd passed out on the respawn floor, awaking three days later in Medic's office with half his organs missing or replaced and what he'd described as 'the worst burnout ever'.

 

The worst part was that the match had _still_ ended in a stalemate.

 

Leaning forwards onto the table, he yawned and put his arms under him as a makeshift pillow. Food could wait. He needed sleep.

 

* * *

 

Two, three hours went by before Scout woke up again. Scout yawned and sat up, his stiff joints cracking as he stretched his arms back behind him.

He was feeling a bit better, but now he was phenomenally hungry.

He looked around, only to find that someone had placed a bucket of chicken and a can in front of him. The chicken had begun to cool and congeal and the soda was now lukewarm but Scout didn't care as he grabbed the two food items and ate them at an impossibly fast speed.

Having done eating, Scout sat back and fully examined the room.

Medic still lay on the table in front of him, apparently having not moved a millimetre since he'd fallen asleep four hours ago. Beside him, two of his doves fought for a chicken wing that had gone astray in scout's haste. Scout had no idea which of the doves were in front of him – Medic had half a dozen doves and aside from the bloodstained Archimedes, they all looked the same to him.

To his left, next to the room's window, stood the Pyro, an over-stuffed burrito leaking red-hot sauce in its left hand. Scout watched in interest as the thing lifted the bottom of its mask up to stuff a bite of its lunch in its mouth and then pulled it back down in an action so fast that the only thing Scout saw was a glimpse of the things eerily pale skin

 

"Uh… hey Py." scout called, instantly attracting Pyro's attention. It turned to him, quickly repeating the action as it crammed the rest of its lunch in its mouth.

"Christ… did'ya just eat that thing? As in, without any water or somthin'?" The thing walked over and nodded, its moving jawline faintly visible through the rubber of its mask.

"Jeez… you really are freakin' insane."

Pyro shrugged as it pulled up a chair and sat down at the table.

There was an awkward silence as Scout looked around the room, desperately trying not to make eye contact with the thing. He was hoping that if he ignored Pyro for long enough, the thing would go away and leave him in peace.

The Pyro however, didn't seem to be so inclined.

"So… uh… I'm gonna go get another drink…" he finally said, indicating his empty soda can. "You want anything?"

 

"Ymph. M bhmpbph."

 

"Uh… can't understand ya mumbles."

The thing let out a muffled groan and pointed to the room's couch, where someone had deposited an inventory's worth of hats, including the yellow form of the potassium bonnett.

"Oh. A banana?" pyro nodded.

 

Scout shrugged and got up to leave the room. Why anyone would _willingly_ consume fruit when you could eat something _much_ better tasting was way beyond him.

Muttering to himself, scout entered the kitchen and made his way to the fridge. Opening the fridge door, a waft of cool air escaped, temporarily tainting the room with the smell of beer, cheese and piss. Scouted pushed aside several mason jars full of yellow 'jarate' and a plate of (slightly furry) white, runny cheese, revealing a half opened cardboard box of purple soda cans. Taking two, Scout withdrew his head from the fridge and let out a relieved breath.

Shoving one can in his bag, Scout closed the fridge.

 

" _Salut_."

Scout started and nearly dropped his can as the frenchman suddenly materialised into thin air uncomfortably close to Scout's left ear.

 

"Christ!" Scout yelled, spinning around to face the suddenly visible Spy. "What the freaking hell dude?!"

 

"Did you think zat I was done with you Scout?"

 

"Jesus… Spy, just go away already, 'kay? Nobody likes you."

 

"Hmm… I think know someone who'd beg to differ…"

 

"Look pal, Pyro's in the other room an' if ya dont get your French ass outta my face, I'm callin' her over. You got that pal?"

 

"And what would that do, Hmm?" The Spy said, indicating at his blue suit.

 

"Thphm?" Spy was suddenly shoved forwards as a blinding blue flare suddenly made contact with the back of his head, setting him on fire. His illusion dissolved, revealing a red suit as the impact of the shot sent both him and Scout sprawling to the ground.

The Spy let out a dissatisfied 'hmph' before falling limp on top of Scout.

 

"Christ…" Scout muttered as he pushed the corpse off him, the stench of cooked flesh starting to fill the room. "Uh… thanks again?"

Pyro gave scout a thumbs up before putting the Scorch Shot down and moving over to the kitchen bench, where a fruit bowl of bananas lay.

"Could'a given me a warning though." Scout complained, standing up and giving the burnt body a kick.

Pyro shrugged and picked up a banana from the bowl.

"So… uh… hey! Didya hear what happened on Monday?" Pyro shook its head and opened the banana "Oh man… it was awesome! So, we at gravel pit right? Well, there was this Heavy right.…"

 

* * *

 

_Changelog 1-6-16_

_\+ added chapter_

_\+ ported chapter_


	5. Artifacts

_Now loading ctf_sawmill..._

 

* * *

 

"Are ya absolutely sure this is a good idea doc?" Engineer asked, glancing from Scout to Medic. "Ah mean, is it alright to send him back on the field."

 

"Dell, the question is not if he should be on the field but if we can _keep_ him off the field." Medic replied from his position in the driver's seat, his eyes not leaving the wet and windy road before him. The weather had taken a bad turn an hour or so ago, making driving on the dirt road a treacherous task.

The rest of the team was crammed into the back space of Medic's ambulance, each class at their usual pre-battle rituals. Scout was jammed between heavy, who was caressing his minigun and Sniper, who was re-stringing his bow. Scout had taken off his hand wraps and was examining his hands before putting some fresh bandages on. The only one not doing anything was Spy, who was sitting up against the van's doors, a dark blue trench coat folded across his lap as he tried his best not to touch or acknowledge pyro (who was cleaning a flickering red neon sign).

Scout turned his attention back to his hands. They were calloused from years of baseball and a faint scar was barely visible on the palm of his right hand. Pulling a fresh roll of gauze out of his pocket, he began to wrap this hands back up. His wrists hurt from the constant recoil of his gun and while the bandages helped, nothing could fully negate the effect his gun's kickback had in his wrists.

 

"Hey hardhat," Scout called, attracting the texan's attention. "Don't sweat it pal, I'll be-"

 

The van was suddenly lit up as from outside, a peal of thunder crashing through the bostonian's sentence. Scout let out a small yelp of surprise, but it was overshadowed by Sniper as he suddenly jumped up, kukri in hand.

 

"What the bloody hell was that?!"

 

"So the bushman is scared of a little thunder?" Spy smiled.

 

"No! Bloody thing surprised me, that's all ya spook." Sniper sat down and sheathed the knife, still visibly shaken by the noise.

 

"Oh, the freaking australian is scared of thunder!" Scout sniggered.

 

"Every man's afraid of something."

 

"What the freaking hell's _thunder_ gonna do to ya? Bite ya?"

 

"Watch it mate."

 

"Watch it? Why? Whaddya gonna do to me? Throw ya piss at me?"

 

"Scout, I killed a bloody croc with these hands."

 

"Well then, come at me pal! Or are ya too scared the thunder's gonna jump out and bite ya?"

 

"You bloody well asked for-"

 

" _No fighting in the van!_ " Medic suddenly yelled shrilly from the front seat. "And if you do not do as you are told, I vill not be healing you today!"

Scout and Sniper quickly sat down, not wanting to risk that punishment. The van was suddenly silent, save for the constant barrage of rain and the occasional clap of thunder.

 

"Ach, bloody awful weather." Demoman said, finally breaking the silence.

 

"Weather is not good for fighting." Heavy agreed, looking up from his gun. "Too much water."

 

Pyro let out a muffled noise of agreement, its shoulders drooping as if in disappointment.

 

"Aww man, are seriously going to fight in this?" Scout whinned, his attention suddenly drawn to the van's windows. "I can't run in this!"

 

The van suddenly stopped with a lurch and everyone in the back (with the exception of Spy) was suddenly thrown off the bench they were all onto the floor.

Moments later, the back doors opened and a rush of wind and pelting rain suddenly flooded the van, drenching everyone within with a downpour of ice-cold water.

 

"Get up you MAGGOTS! This is not a PLAYGROUND!" Soldier yelled, jumping up and accidentally landing a heavy booted foot on Sniper's leg with a crack. "We move out NOW!" he then marched out of the van, stepping on the limbs of several more people as he did so. Pushing past Medic (who was valiantly trying to hold the door open against the gale), he marched off into the decrepit wooden blue base the vehicle was parked in front of.

 

Spy let out a small tsk of dissatisfaction and got up, slipping the trench coat on as he did so. Turning up the collar against the rain, he disappeared in a puff of smoke as he activated his cloaking watch.

Engineer soon followed, pulling out a blue toolbox he'd stowed away under the bench before he left the van. Heaving the metal box onto his shoulder he exited the van whistling some western tune as he disappeared into the wall of rain.

He was soon followed by the Pyro, but the firestarter seemed to lack the carefree-ness of both its usual disposition and its friend. Instead, it constantly jerked it head as if looking for something, the grip on its mêlée weapon pulling taut the rubber of its gloves as it exited the van.

Scout gave a small stretch and retrieved his roll of gauze from where it had landed in the sudden stop. Readjusting his bag strap, he looked out at the stretch of land between him and the (relative) comfort of the base beyond.

Looking out over it, Scout quickly estimated the distance to be about hundred or so yards (or, as Spy, Medic and Heavy insisted on calling it for some weird reason beyond Scout, metres). No matter how he did this, he knew that he'd end up soaking wet.

Scout lowered his body in preparation for a wild dash across the stretch before him. He'd done this before a dozen times back in high school (before he dropped out that was) – why would here be any different?

Scout sprang forward into the rain, his feet hitting the muddy ground several feet away from the van, suddenly realising why this was different from before.

 

Track meets weren't usually held on muddy roads in the middle of a thunderstorm.

 

He still ran forwards, his feet momentarily sinking into the wet earth before being jerked up again with each step. The thin canvas of his shoes offered no protection against the wet ground, each step soaking his feet in freezing water.

However, his run stopped as quickly as it began as Scout crossed the threshold from the pouring outside to the inside of the base.

 

He skidded to a halt, his cleated trainers offering little grip on the already wet bare wooden floor of the base. Panting from the unexpected exertion of running against both the wind and the mud, Scout opened his bag and fished out a pale blue can of soda.

The base in which he found himself in was only better than the outside in the regards that it wasn't raining here. The base was unexpectedly cold, with the only source of heat being a pathetically small old wooden oven which Pyro was desperately trying to keep alive. The building was lit by a handful of dying fluorescent lights, their blueish hue tinged with pink as the slowly dying bulbs emitted a flickering light.

The base had seen better days – that was for sure. Once upon a time, back in the 20s and 30s, the sawmill base had once been the main base of operations for BLU, right up until the accident of '34, where the team has hurriedly been relocated to the building now know as 2fort right outside Teufort.

 

Or something like that. Scout couldn't quite remember the date and the classic Medic might have embellished the details for storytelling sake and anyways, history had never been Scout's strong suit.

But now, all that remained of the base's glory days were artifacts. An old map marking operations long since passed hung on the wall, a photo showing the team that once resided here tacked up beside it. Their effects littered the room, unused and gathering dust – a well worn crowbar, the skeleton of an umbrella and the rusted corpse of a primitive sentry lay in the dark corners of the room, the people who once knew their stories long gone.

Scout swallowed and turned from the artifacts to the still alive members of their team. Pyro had finally managed to get a small blaze going in the oven, and Scout walked over to it, grateful for the heat it produced, no matter how dismal.

Sitting down before the yellow flame, he removed first his bag and then his sopping wet blue shirt, and then finally his shoes. Wringing out the articles of clothing as best as he could, he laid them down beside him with the (highly optimistic) hope that he could get them to dry before the match started. To his other side, Soldier sat examining his helmet.

 

"So...ya think we're gonna fight in this shitstorm?" The runner asked, jerking a thumb to the window and the thunderstorm raging outside.

 

"Private, you are an american soldier. That means you will fight _wherever_ and _whenever_ our glorious country demands." Soldier simply replied, his voice strangely quiet.

 

Scout shuddered. His voice, combined with his now visible eyes seemed to make the place just a bit more ominous and creepy.

He looked around the room in search of a more meaningful conversation. Spy leant against the oven smoking a cigarette, his trench coat still dripping with water. Pyro sat next to the open oven, close enough that it would have risked catching fire were it not for its flame retardant suit. Engineer sat a safe distance away from it, contemplating the rusted sentry in the corner. Heavy, and Demoman sat next to Soldier in front of the fire, each one stoically silent.

The door slammed shut as the last two classes finally entered the base. Sniper was limping from where Soilder had broken his leg and had an arm around Medic. His face was deathly pale with fear and his eyes were unusually wide underneath his sunglasses. Medic looked a bit better, but he was visibly shivering and his entire outfit was soaked as a result of having been outside the longest. He had a black bag around one shoulder, the nozzle of one of his medi-guns sticking out at one end. Setting the injured Australian on the floor, he got out the medigun and activated. There was the crackle of...something and a hiss of pain as the broken bone knitted back together.

 

Having done his job, Medic walked over to the fire and sat down, removing his sodden lab coat as he did so.

 

Scout, desperate for _anything_ to break the silence, looked around once again for something to talk about.

Out the window, he could see the storm raging, the occasional flash of lightning illuminating the derelict complex. It was only four in the afternoon, but the world outside was dark, shrouded in the twilight sawmill was perpetually in.

Sniper hobbled over to the engineer, his freshly healed leg still sore from the break. As another clap of thunder sounded from outside, he started again, whipping out his knife again, only to put it away quickly.

Scout smirked and turned his head back to the fire. Something about the base seemed to dampen the atmosphere of the team, forcing their usual banter into silence as they sat in the cold building.

 

And then suddenly, the lights cut out, sending the entire base into darkness.

 

* * *

 

_Changelog 5-6-16_

 

_\+ added new chapter_

 

_/shorter, less story relevant chapter merely meant for setting the mood. Next chapter should come fairly soon-ish. and I'm planning that It'll be a biggie!_

_/American english is hard when you're an australian. Damn you Scout for being so stereotypically american. also, this chapter was originally 500+ words longer due to me rambling on more in the paragraphs describing the map, so yay for pruning I guess?_


	6. Midsts of the storm

As the base was suddenly plunged into darkness, there was a shrill scream and the sound of someone falling to the floor. After a moment of frantically scrambling by the entire team, someone let out a muffled cry of success and there was the sound of a match striking as Pyro lit a matchstick, casting the room in a dim, pale yellow light.

The light only lasted for a few seconds as the match quickly burnt out, sending the room back into darkness as pyro let out an annoyed grunt and continued rummaging around in the dark for a better light source.

There was a sudden click and a beam of light shone through the darkness, its source being a dull blue flashlight in soldiers hands.

 

"Where are your flashlights men!? Did you-" Soldier was suddenly silenced mid-rant as a gloved hand grabbed the torch out of his hands and pointed it at a wooden crate next to the old (and now dead) stove. Using one hand to hold the torch, Pyro rummaged through the crate before finally unearthing an old oil lamp.

 

Putting the flashlight down, the fire-bug used its now free hand to tap the lamp, causing its wick to suddenly combust into a small flame.

The lamp put the room in a much more steady light than the match, its orange glow sharply contrasting the tint of blue the walls were done in.

Setting the lamp down, Pyro resumed a cross legged seating position in front of the lamp, its glass eyes pointed down at the lamp and its flame.

Scout scooted over to the lamp, with the rest of the team following suit. The expressions on each classes face was staggeringly varied, ranging from the not-really-concerned look on Spy's face the the absolutely-terrified look Sniper had. Scout himself was somewhere on the 'sacred' end of the spectrum, but he was nowhere near as scared as sniper was.

 

At least, that's what he told himself.

 

"Ah reckon," Engineer said, settling down next to Sniper and Pyro. "That tha storm's gone an' blown out the darn fuse again. Scoots, I'ma need ya to go an' check tha circuit box."

 

"The what now?" Scout asked, staring blankly at the texan.

 

"Tha circuit box. It's a black box with a yellow 'bolt on it right next to-"

 

"Oh yeah! That thing! But…" Scout glanced out at the window, where the storm was still hitting hard. "...Right now? I mean, it's like a freaking rain blizzard out there! A rain blizzard with lightning! Can't I wait until later?"

 

"Scoot, we ain't got any power until you go check them fuses; An I hate to tell ya, but that storm ain't gonna settle down til tomorrow. I reckon ya best shot is ta go now when there's still some light."

 

"Fine." Scout pouted, reaching for his still wet t-shirt and shoes.

 

"Ya know what ya meant ta do with them switches?"

 

"Engie, I ain't some dumbass like Solly. I know how to flick a freaking switch."

 

"Fine. If ya say so Scout."

 

putting his still wet (and now cold) clothing back on, Scout got up and pulled his aluminium baseball bat out of his bag. In weather like this, his gun wasn't going to be much use if he couldn't even aim it right and anyways, the ceasefire was still in place.

 

It still didn't hurt to be prepared though.

 

After a second thought, he brought out another pale can of Bonk! and put it in his pocket.

Walking over to the door, Scout opened it and disappeared into the rain.

 

* * *

 

In all fairness, a 'rain blizzard' was an accurate description of the weather outside.

 

The rain was coming down at an almost horizontal angle and Scout was reduced to a fraction of his normal speed as he pushed on through the downpour.

Running through the gale was tiring, and Scout could feel his already slow (well, slow relative to his usual speed) pace slow even more. But he refused to stop. What if something caught him out here like the RED Spy, or, even worse, the ghosts of the original team?

 

Ghosts?

 

Well, he'd seen some weird shit in the year and a half he'd been on the team, so perhaps ghosts wasn't a too far-fetched theory.

He rounded a corner to face the brown, wooden building in the middle of the complex. He was close now. The box should be around her-

Scout's thinking was suddenly cut short as he tripped over something heavy, landing on the wet ground with a spectacular crash.

 

" _Fuck!_ " Scout vehemently swore, instanly trying to jump up again, only for his ankle to give out on him.

 

Sitting up in the puddle of mud he now found himself in, Scout glared at the object that had caused his fall and subsequently, his injury.

 

And then froze.

 

Right by his injured foot, one end driven into the mud by the force of Scout's impact, was a black box with a stylised yellow lightning bolt on it.

Scout scooted over to the box and examined it more carefully. It was definitely the fuse box he was looking for. The thick cables on either end of the box had been torn out, as if someone had ripped the box from its mounting on the shack wall. He tried to turn over the box, but it proved to be too heavy for him to even lift, let alone turn.

Scout looked at the box for a moment before standing up, carefully trying to avoid putting too much weight on his injured foot. The sprain hurt, but it wasn't that bad – he'd had run entire matches with worse injuries than this. He had to get back to base and tell the others about this sudden turn of events though.

He was about to walk of back to the rest of his team when scout spotted something else in the mud. Several feet away was another box, similar to the circuit one he'd been sent to check up on, but it was about half the size and it lacked any sort of markings on its surface.

The runner awkwardly bent down to it and picked up the smaller box. It was nowhere near as heavy as the circuit box and he could easily pick it up. Upon closer inspection, he found that there was something written on it, but in the low light, he couldn't read it. Judging by the torn wires along its top, Scout managed to conclude that it has suffered the same fate as the fuse box.

Tucking the box under his arm, Scout turned to face the way he'd came. If Engie and the others didn't believe him, they couldn't deny it if he brought back….

Scout paused and looked at the thing again. Just _what_ was this? It looked like like some sort of fuse box, so surely it was important. It looked like at had a door of some sort, but it appeared to be locked.

Tucking it back under his arm, Scout turned back to base.

 

It was going to be a _long_ walk.

 

* * *

 

The base door opened and a very wet and a very pissed looking Scout stumbled into the still dark base, attracting the attention of everyone except Demo, who'd fallen into a drink-induced stupor on the floor.

 

"Finally decided to come back hmm?" Spy asked, removing the cigarette from his mouth and tapping off the ash.

 

"I ain't in any freaking mood for ya freaking mouth ya French ass." Scout growled, collapsing on the floor next to Pyro.

 

"Ya took ya sweet time scout." Engineer grumbled, getting up and walking over to scout. "An' where's our power?"

 

"Couldn't do it."

 

"Scout, ah thought you said ya knew where it was."

 

"And what took ya so bloody long?" Sniper added. "Faster than a speeding bullet my ass."

 

"I had a problem." Scout threw the box on the floor in front of him. "Someone's gone an' removed the freaking thing."

 

"What the bloody hell are ya talking about mate?" Sniper asked irritatedly. "That thing weighs a bloody ton! Ya cant go go removin' it like it's some picture!"

 

"Well, it was on the freaking ground Snipes, along with whatever the hell that thing is." Scout waved a hand at the black box he'd thrown down. "Seriously, what the hell is that thing Engie?" he turned his head to face the texan.

 

"Scout…" Engineer said, his face suddenly very pale. "Did ya say the fuse box was broken?"

 

"Yeah pal, I did. Nice someone here freaking believes me."

 

"Oh no…" he breathed. "Team, ah reckon we have a problem." everyone's heads turned to the Engineer.

 

"Ya mean the fact we have no freaking power? Good job hardhat! You get a freaking gold star" Scout gave a mocking clap, only to stop when he everyone was staring at him.

 

"Ah mean the fact that at this moment, we 'ave no respawn."

 

"Vhat?" Medic flatly asked, disbelief in his voice. "Are you sure?"

 

"Yup."

 

"So...vi are mortal? As in, vi haff no safety net?" His voice began to take on a panicked undertone as he spoke, as if he was scared of the fact he was questioning.

 

"Yup." Medic let out a shaky breath and leaned back, all the colour suddenly draining from his face.

 

"Ok, how the freaking hell did ya let _that_ happen!?" Scout exclaimed, fear tinting his voice. "I thought you had like backups and backups of the backups and then backu-"

 

"Scout, ah get ya point. The problem is, all them backups are for mechanical failures an' the like. They ain't for sabotage."

 

"Well, why the freaking hell not?! I mean, they have a freakin' _Spy!_ Thats his entire freaking job!"

 

"Because Scout, this may be a war, but we have rules." Spy interjected. "And I obey the rules of war, Unlike some people.…" he looked around the room, his gaze pausing on Soldier and Medic in particular. "And anyways, this iz _not_ how I would work. Cutting wires? How amateur." He gave a snort of contempt at the thought.

 

"So, vhat is plan now?" Heavy asked, casting a few worried glances at Medic, who was being unusually silent.

 

"Men, this changes NOTHING!" Soldier yelled, jumping up at the chance to lecture the team. "You are all SOLDIERS in the service of our GLORIOUS country! You do not NEED COMMUNIST technologies such as RESPAWN in order to fight! We have ALL fought before without RESPAWN and we shall all do so again!"

 

"As much as it pains me to say this, Sol has a point." Everyone's heads snapped around to face Sniper. "I mean, we're all here 'cause we're the best at killin' people without gettin' killed ourselves. 'Cept for Scout. I still have no bloody idea why he ended up on our team of…'professional' mercenaries in the first place. Probably got lost lookin' for baseball tryouts." Sniper added, extracting a rather ungentlemanly snort of laughter from Spy.

 

"Hey! Ya saying that I ain't good enough for you guys?"

 

"What I'm sayin' is," Sniper continued, ignoring Scout's protests. "Is that we've managed to do our jobs for god-knows-how-long without respawn. So i-"

 

" _Nein_." Medic suddenly interjected, his voice surprisingly steady despite his appearance. "Vi vill _not_ fight until vi haff our respawn back." he got up and faced Soldier, fixing the amercian a steely look with his brown eyes.

 

"What's that? Are you SCARED Medic?"

 

"Yes." He quietly responded, a mixture of fear and horror making his voice shake ever so slightly

 

"Are you SCARED of those commie bastards?!"

 

"No, I am scared of vhat you fools vill do. I haff seen so many fools die because they think they are brave enough to fight vithout waiting for reinforcements. Vi can not afford to take risks right now. The moment our respawn dropped is the moment this war stopped being a game and started being reality."

 

"But if we die, we shall die a GLORIOUS death fighting our–"

 

"There is no such thing as a glorious death in war." The German snapped. "I have seen enough death in the war to know that it is all pointless in the end. There is only the illusion that what vi fight for is right and worth dying for. It does not matter whether you fight for a company, a god, a führer or an idea, or even if you fight on the winning or losing side, the result is the same." he turned away from the group and sighed. "One death is a tragedy but a thousand is merely a statistic. And I refuse to let this team become just that – a statistic the administrator will quote when she finds our replacements. Just another name among the thousand of others who I failed to save. Just another number in this pointless war."

 

What followed was a silence so foreboding that not even Scout could break it. Even the sound of the storm outside seemed to have faded in the face of it.

 

At least, that's what everyone thought.

 

"I don't know what war you fought in, but no war of mine would EVER accept an UNPATRIOTIC COWARD like YOU in their midsts. You sir, are a DISGRACE to your country!"

 

Another silence. Everyone's focus was on Soldier as he triumphantly looked at Medic, his eyes filled with satifactisfaction underneath the lid of his helmet.

And then, without another word, Medic stormed off, his anger saturating the area around him as he went by the team. He opened the door to the outside and disappeared into the downpour, letting the door slam shut behind him.

 

"Ah don't think we're fighting tomorrow." Engineer finally said, breaking the silence once more. "Heavy, would'a mind going out there an' trying to talk ta doc?" Heavy nodded and got up to exit the room.

 

"An' can ya please hurry up pal? My leg's killing me here pal." Scout added, indicating his injured ankle. Now that it wasn't half submerged in freezing water, the injury had started to hurt and swell up.

 

Heavy nodded again and left the base.

 

Scout shivered and looked at the small oil lamp in the middle of the room, its weak, yellow light casting strange shadows on everyone. He was still soaking wet, and the lack of any heat source in the room was making itself painfully clear to him.

He looked up to the remaining few members of the team that were left conscious in the room. Engineer had taken Soilder in the corner and was lecturing him about...something. Pyro was sitting cross legged, its head tilted down at the small flame. It hadn't moved at all for the last five minutes and Scout was starting to suspect that it had fallen asleep. Spy and Sniper had shifted to the other side of the lamp and were discussing something in hushed voice.

Scout sighed and took off his top and wrung it out. He didn't want to even try removing his shoes in the fear that he'd just make his injury worse.

He fished out the still un-drunken can of soda from his pocket and opened it.

 

This was going to be a long night.

 

* * *

 

_Changelog 8-6-16_

 

_\+ added new chapter_

 

_/I'll be honest here - I feel this is my best chapter yet. IDK what you guys think, but combined with the atmosphere of the last chapter, I think it works really well. But that's my opinion. What do you guys think?_

_/Also, not sure when, but I'll be going though what I've already written and doing some corrections - nothing major mind you, just a few grammar fixes and consistency edits_

 

_/Shoutout to StoryCloud and DarkShield for the comments. Thanks guys :) !_


	7. Geneva convention

Scout groaned.

 

"Freaking hell." He muttered, looking around the base.

 

It had been about an hour since Medic had stormed out of the base and neither the storm outside or the storm inside showed any signs of clearing up any time soon. Medic had yet to return from the outside, but Heavy had some time ago, apparently having failed in his mission. Spy and Sniper were _still_ talking about whatever they were talking about in low voices, and any attempts by Scout to eavesdrop were quickly dropped when Sniper threatened to douse the runner in piss. Engie had pulled out a half built dispenser and was working on it, ignoring the rest of the team entirely. Pyro had disappeared off into the uncharted (and uncleaned) depths of the base for who knew what and Soldier was furiously cleaning his shotgun.

 

And of course, Demo was asleep.

 

Scout himself was bored out of his mind. He'd tried reading something, but his mind couldn't concentrate with the pain in his foot. None of the other classes had responded when he'd tried to start a conversation with them and he couldn't really get up and do anything else until Medic came back with his medigun.

He was no longer cold, just rather uncomfortable in his wet clothes. Pyro had tried to start a proper fire earlier, but the entire team had quickly shut the fire-bug down on that particular idea very quickly.

 

Scout looked at the door, contemplating the idea of going out there and trying to talk to Medic himself. Sure it was a stupid idea – what could he do that Heavy couldn't? – but it was infinitely better than sitting here doing nothing.

Scout got up, carefully trying to avoid putting weight on the injured joint – it wasn't as bad as it had been when he'd stumbled into the base, but it was still painful.

He limped over to the door, no one else in the room taking any notice of him for some reason. Scout paused at the door to consider this oddity, shrugged and pushed open the wooden door.

 

He was instantly met with a wall of rain and wind as he stepped out, shutting the door behind him.

 

In front of him stood the tall, pale figure of Medic. He'd put his lab coat back on, but oddly, not his blue, rubber gloves, exposing a pair of thin hands with nails bitten down right to the cuticle. He'd taken off his glasses and was staring into the distance, his eyes unable to focus on anything definite.

 

And strangely, Archimedes, who was never far from it's master, was nowhere to be seen.

 

Scout walked up to Medic, who did not react at all to the american's presence.

 

"Hey doc," Scout called, finally attracting the doctor's attention. "You ok? Ya ain't exactly looking fresh there pal."

 

"Scout?" the german asked, turning his head and squinting at the newcomer. "Vhat are you doing here?" he hurriedly fished out his spectacles from his coat pocket and put them on. "And vhy are you not wearing a shirt?"

 

"'Cause it's wet." Scout shrugged. "An' anyways, who needs a shirt when ya got abs like these?" He grinned at this, pointing at his bare torso.

 

"Scout, vhat are you talking about? You haff less muscles than _me_."

 

"Eh?" Scout looked at the Medic in confusion. "There is no freaking way that is true. No. Freaking. Way."

 

"Scout, vhat do you want?" Medic asked, changing the topic.

 

"Whoa, what makes ya think _I_ want something?"

 

"Because you vould not talk to me otherwise. And you're limping."

 

"Yeesh, cynical much?"

 

"Do you even know what that vord means?"

 

"'Course I do!" Medic rolled his eyes at the Scout.

 

"So...uh...wanna go inside or something? It's kinda wet out here."

 

"And vhy should I?"

 

"'Cause it's freaking storming out here? An' everyone's worried about ya."

 

"Are they?" Medic raised an eyebrow. "Or are they vondering vhere their doctor is?"

 

"Uh...ain't that kinda the same thing?"

 

" _Nein._ "

 

"But... you're the doctor."

 

"I am more than just _the_ doctor. there is more to me than healing in the same way there is more to than running."

 

"I don't get it."

 

Medic let out an exasperated sigh.

"Vhat I am saying Scout is that you're wrong. Nobody cares about me. They only care about the 'class' who heals them on the field."

 

"But that ain't the reason why you're out here."

 

"Vhat?"

 

"You ain't out here 'cause nobody likes ya. Ya out here 'cause of something else." Scout tilted his head at the German. "You're scared."

Medic tried to interrupt, but Scout was talking too fast for him to get a word in edgewise.

"You've been acting weird since Engie said the respawn's down doc, and then ya gave Sol that giant spiel of yours on dying an' shit. Ya scared of death, aren't ya?"

The doctor blinked in surprise at Scout's conclusion. Scout wasn't exactly know for acute observations.

"Heh...I ain't as dumb as ya think I am pal." He said, smirking at the nonplussed expression on the doctor's face.

 

Medic sighed and let his shoulders fall.

"Every man's afraid of something." He quoted.

 

"But...if you're scared of death, why are ya _here?_ Shouldn't ya be in a hospital or something, _saving_ lives instead of endin' them out here?"

 

"I haff my own reasons for not choosing a more...professional career. _Personal_ reasons."

 

"Yeah, as if we all don't know what those _personal reasons_ are ya kraut."

 

Medic suddenly froze, and then slowly, he drew himself straight to his full height, his ungloved hands forming tight fists.

 

" _Vhat_ are you implying Scout?" He asked, his voice suddenly very quiet and restrained.

 

" _Implying?_ I thought I was stating a fact. I mean, ya a freaking mad scientist who does weird shit to us without a second thought. It's kinda freaking obvious you're a n-"

 

" _Don't_ ," Medic interrupted, his voice suddenly taking on an ice cold tone that made the hairs on the back of Scout's neck rise. " _Ever call me that you ignorant sveinhold._ "

 

"Er...doc? I think–"

 

"I was _never_ on their side."

 

"Oohh…" Scout paused as he processed this new information. "Soo...you were on our side? Can'ya explain? I kinda missed history…"

 

"Scout," Medic let out a long sigh, his body relaxing again. "Just go."

 

"Why? It ain't like you got anyone else to talk to. An' anyways, no one else here will even try apparently."

 

"Because if you do not, you vill catch hypothermia."

 

"An' what about you? I ain't leaving you out here."

 

"I'll be fine."

 

"Willya really?"

 

"Just go Scout. Please."

 

Scout sighed and turned back to the building. His entire body had gone numb from the cold and he had trouble walking, but he somehow made it back into the relative comfort of the building.

 

Collapsing in front of the small glow of the lamp, his mind finally seemed to catch up with his body temperature as he was suddenly overtook with an acute cold that seemed to penetrate down into his bones.

Suddenly, from behind him, there was a muffled cry, quickly followed by the abrupt impact of something large and woollen into his bare back. It took scout several seconds of fighting against the thing before he realised that it was an old but warm blanket. Wrapping it around his freezing body, Scout turned around and gave a feeble grin to its source, who gave him a gloved thumbs up in reply.

 

He had managed to get himself warmed up to a certain degree before the door opened one final time and the white figure of Medic walked in, water dripping of his coat in rivets. A few heads went up at his arrival, but they soon went back to focus on whatever they had been doing before without a single word.

Taking the coat off with shivering limbs, he walked over and sat down next to Scout, only to find himself assaulted with another blanket from Pyro.

There was a long moment of silence as neither mercenary said anything. Now that all his anger was gone, Medic looked more scared and tired than anything else.

 

"So…." Scout looked expectantly at Medic. "If ya weren't on... _their_ side, what the freaking hell does that mean? Were ya on our side? Were ya a _spy?_ " Scout's eyes lit up at the idea.

 

" _Nein_. I vas on neither side. I vas a medic."

 

"Eh? I'm confused. Doncha have to be on a side to be in a war?"

 

"I did not fight for either side. I merely healed people."

 

"Ya didn't fight? But...how? I mean, ya didn't have your medigun-thingy back then, right?"

 

"Correct."

 

"Then how the freaking hell did you _survive?_ Don't people shoot at ya all the freaking time?"

 

"Scout," he let out an irritated sigh. "In war, vi haff something called the Geneva convention."

 

"The what now?"

 

"Vi have rules. And one of those rules say that you can not shoot the medic."

 

"Did people seriously follow these...rules?"

 

Medic sighed, but this time it sounded more regretful.

"Unfortunately, not all the time. Some people forget, other did not see the cross I wore and others just did not care. Sometimes, your people were nearly as bad as mine in regards to following the rules of war. _nearly_."

 

There was a snort of disgust from behind them, causing both men to suddenly start in surprise. The blue suited form of Spy shimmered into existence behind the two, a cigarette poised between the fingers of his right hand.

"But zat iz not ze whole story, is it _Josef?_ " Spy asked, sitting down between the two. "You were not exactly ze saint of healing and neutrality you paint yourself to be, hmm?"

 

"Spy, if you think that for even _one moment–"_

 

"I do not mean that my dear doctor. I merely meant that you should tell Scout here the whole story." Spy turned to Scout. "Perhaps you should ask herr medic here about what happened–"

 

" _Don't_." Medic growled, grabbing the Frenchman by the arm.

 

"Or what?" Spy grinned slyly. "Let me remind you that crossing me is a _very_ idea Josef." he turned around to face Medic and leaned into the man. "I would be a shame if Heavy were to learn of your...past affiliations. I'm sure he is _much_ less forgiving on those matters than Scout is."

Medic's face went several shades whiter, a feat that Scout didn't even know was possible. His mouth moved several times, but no sound came out.

 

"Hey, back off him ya french bastard." The runner interjected, trying to pull Spy off the other man. "An' leave our Medic alone."

 

"And why should I listen to you?"

 

"'Cause I know shit too."

 

"Really?" Spy snorted. "And what iz this information of yours and how did you acquire it?"

 

"Ain't sayin'. Just lemme tell ya the walls to both mine an' the other Scout's house were _really_ thin."

 

"Scout, do you honestly think I would tell–"

 

"Oh, I've heard a lot more shit than just ya talks Spy. A _lot_ more." Scout grinned.

There was a stunned silence for a moment as Spy went from an expression of smugness to one of extreme disgust and fury, only for him to quickly resume his usual face of calm collectiveness.

 

" _Touché_ Scout, But I assure you, that will not work next time." and with that, Spy got up and walked away from the duo.

Scout breathed out a sigh of relief and turned back to Medic.

"Ya alright? Freaking Spy." Scout muttered.

 

Medic nodded and glanced back at Spy, who had gone over to Pyro and was now pestering the fire-starter.

 

"So...ya wanna tell me what he was talkin' about?"

 

The doctor paused and then shook his head.

"No."

 

"So...uh…" There was a short silence as Scout realised that their previous conversation was over. "hey! Where's Archie?"

 

"Archie?" Medic looked at Scout in confusion for a few moment, before his face suddenly lit in understanding. "Oh! I don't know…" He got up and looked around for his dove. "Archimedes?" He walked away from scout, calling after the bird.

 

Scout sighed and turned back to the lamp. Behind him, he could hear that Spy's pesterings had grown into a full on tantrum while Pyro remained silent.

 

"You can not remain silent for ever," Spy was ranting. "I will find out who you are you _démon._ And when zat happens, your silence will not save you! zere will be no fire and brimstone to help you! I will strip you of that suit and we zhall all zee the monster you are beneath!"

 

His curiosity piqued, Scout turned his head to once more face Spy. He had cornered the Pyro and was now violently poking the thing, demanding answers of some sort as and throwing insults he did so. Pyro however, just stood leaning against the corner it had been forced into, arms crossed as its glass eyes stared at the Spy.

Scout shrugged and watched the Frenchman become more and more agitated as he tried to get a response from the firebug, but to no avail. Eventually, he gave up and stormed off to sulk in the opposite corner next to the sleeping Demoman.

 

Scout turned back to the lamp, its flame dancing almost hypnotically behind the glass of its prison.

 

He didn't resist as the flickering flame slowly lulled him to sleep.

 

* * *

 

_Changelog 11-6-16_

 

_\+ added chapter_

_\+ ported chapter_

_\+ edited tags_

 

_/Just to clarify first, I understand the Geneva convention perfectly well. It's Medic here who refuses to accept the fact he ended up on the wrong side._

_/This was by far one of the hardest chapter to write. I had to keep on redo-ing parts to make sure everything worked and even now, I'm a little worried that everything went a little too...fast._

_/Much to the delight of me and you guys, the next few chapters shall consist mainly of scout doing scout things, pyro doing pyro things and spy being a dick. As interesting as medic's character is, he's also a bugger to write well due to his complexcity. While one could argue that spy is just as hard, he doesn't really have_ that _big a role. yet._


	8. Scouting is a thing, aparently

"Scout, ya awake?"

 

Scout groaned and blinked open his eyes to see the behatted form of Engineer standing over him. Pyro kneeled beside him and was tentatively poking the recumbent class.

 

"Am now. What the freaking hell dya want?" He grumbled, sitting up. His ankle had stopped hurting, he noticed.

 

"Ah reckon we should go an' check the fuse box now so we can report in ta Pauling when she's on. While the other team's asleep."

 

"And why the freaking hell do ya need _me?_ I was asleep too!"

 

"'Cause you know where it is. And ah don't quite trust that the other team's gonna respect the ceasefire."

 

"Ya got Pyro. Ya don't need me."

 

"Scout, do ya realise how stupid that would be? No respawn means we ain't in-vul-nerable to our own fire."

 

"Wut?"

 

"He'll set us all on fire."

 

"Oh." Scout reached for shirt, only to find it still wet. "Aw shit."

 

"What now?" The Texan sighed.

 

"Still wet. An' I ain't wearing this if it's wet."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Why not? I'll freaking freeze, that's why!"

 

"Didn't ya pack extra clothes?"

 

"No…"

 

"Scout, ya ain't going out there half dressed. Ya gonna need ta put that on."

 

"But hardhat…" Scout whinned.

 

"Mrhphm!"

The duo turned their heads to face Pyro, who had deposited a blue chest on the floor.

 

"Py, ya aint helping." The Engineer said through gritted teeth.

 

"Whoa! What the hell's this?" Scout demanded, pointing at the box. "Why's it got my...picture thingy on it? This aint mine!" he opened the chest, curiosity overcoming whatever cation he might have had.

 

"Scout, ah don't think…"

 

"Hey! I found grenades!" Scout squealed with excitement, holding aloft a blue concussion grenade. "And a nail gun! This is so freaking awesome!"

 

"Scout, put that down!" Engineer grabbed the grenade out of scout's hands. "Ya don't know-"

 

"Hey look!" Scout brought out a blue camouflage patterned jacket with blue bands on it.

 

"Fine. ya have a top. Can we _please_ get going now?"

 

"Fine. ya can go. I'll catch up."

 

* * *

 

"Scout...ah don't even know what ta say…"

 

"Why? 'Cause I look so freaking awesome?"

From behind its mask, Pyro let out what possibly sounded like a snigger.

 

"Ya look ridiculous. Can ya even see with that thing?"

 

"What? This?" Scout pointed at the pair of blue, reflective sunglasses covering his eyes. "'Course I can! An' its also kinda like some sort of...tactical visor! I can see your health an' my health an' hey! A leaderboard"

 

"Scout, ya need to focus. We 'ave a job here."

 

"Right, right, a job. Oh man, I hope we find some RED bastards so I can use this!" from a holder on his hip, he brought out a nail gun.

 

"Scout," the Engineer sighed. Scout was _really_ starting to test the limits of his tolerance right now. "Put that away."

 

"Why? I mean, what if we encounter some…"

 

"This is meant to be ah simple maintenance task Scout. Not a full on assault."

 

"Then why the freaking hell do ya need me?"

 

"Ah need you to do ya job."

 

"Ta hurt people ya mean? I kinda need a gun to do that. An' why not do it with this?" he waved the nail gun to prove his point.

 

"Ah mean you need to scout ahead."

 

"Wait, wait, wha?" the Bostonian took of the visor and stared at the Texan blankly. "What'dya mean 'scout ahead'?"

 

"Yes Scout. Why dya think ya called 'the Scout'."

 

"I thought it was 'cause the Admin said I looked like a Boy Scout when she iner-viewed me."

 

"Look, ah need you ta go ahead an' see if there's any of them reds hangin' about. Ya dont shoot 'em or whack 'em or even annoy 'em Scout. Ya just go in an-"

 

"Christ, I know how to do my freaking job Engie! Ya don't need to tell me like I'm some kid! Don't engage 'em. Unless it's a Spy. Got it."

 

"Don't engage tha Spy either Scout."

 

"Seriously? Fine, I won't hurt Spy." he snapped the visor back over his eyes. "Tactical visor activated an' let's go!"

 

Spinning around to face the yard's main building, Scout broke into a run forwards.

 

It had stopped raining sometime earlier during the night, but the ground was still a wet plane of mud churned up by the wind and rain. While his speed was slightly slower than usual due to the weight of the boots he now wore, their grip on the slippery terrain was infinitely better than what his standard trainers would've given him.

His vision – which was tinted blue by the visors lense – was overlaid with information. Scout didn't even know how the thing was still working after having sat in a box somewhere for nearly a decade, but he wasn't going to question it. _That_ was a question for Engie to ponder, not him.

Most the dialogues were greyed out with the words 'OFFLINE' written in white, rendering the thing almost useless. A few blue boxes were still active however, stating the Scout's health and ammunition levels.

 

Slowing down slightly, Scout reached the site of where he'd found the fuse box last night. The box was still embedded in the ground, but the rain had washed away all trace of his fall.

Looking around, he saw no trace of the other team on this side of the building.

 

"Yo Engie!" he called, putting a hand to his ear to activate his headset. "This thing workin'?"

 

"Ah can hear ya just fine Scout. No need ta shout." came the staticky reply from the earpiece. "Ya done checkin' tha area?"

 

"'Course I have hardhat. An' I ain't seen a single red shirt."

 

"Alright. I-"

 

 

**click**

 

 

"Don't even freaking _breath,_ ya undead son of a bitch."

 

"Scout? What the heck is _that?_ "

 

The Scout remained silent though as the cold barrel of a gun was pressed into the bare flesh of his neck. He knew that a single shot from a gun at this range would put a bullet through his head and instantly kill him.

 

And this time, there would be no respawn.

 

"Oh Jesus Christ…" he breathed, breaking into a cold sweat.

 

"You broke our freaking respawn, didn't ya you bastard?"

 

"What?" The Scout turned his head around partly to try and face his assaulter, only to have the barrel of the gun pressed harder into the nape of his neck. "What the freaking hell are ya talking about pal?"

 

"Wait, ya ain't the Classic Scout." The BLU Scout felt the gun being lifted from his neck. "Dude, why are ya dressed like that Nate?"

 

"Dressed like this? 'cause it looks pretty cool! An' the rest of my stuff is wet." He turned around to face his red and lime doppelgänger and lifted the visor.

 

"Man... sorry pal. I thought you were someone else. What'dya doin' out 'ere?"

 

"Respawn's down an' hardhat wants ta check it. You?"

 

"Same."

 

"Hey, can ya wait a sec, I need to do somethin'."

Nate turned away from the the other scout and turned his attention back to his headset.

 

"Ya still there hardhat?"

 

"Yup. What in tarnation happened?"

 

"Bumped in ta the other scout an' he thought I was someone else. It's all sorted now."

 

"It better be. Ah sent Py over ta see what was goin' on over there."

 

"Mkay. Hey hardhat?"

 

"Mmh?"

 

"Rick said that their respawn is down too. Ya think there's a connection?"

 

"Maybe. But that ain't our problem now Scoots."

 

Scout shrugged and turned back to the other Scout.

 

"Hey, I gotta go back to my Engie too. Before he-"

 

"Scout, what are ya doing?" The red Scout spun around to find his team's Engineer standing behind him, arms crossed. "Ah dis-tinctly told ya no firearms!"

 

"Uh…" the scout looked from his engineer to Nate, searching for an excuse.

 

"An' I'm sorry Nathaniel for our Scout's behaviour. Ah 'spose we've all been a little anxious since...since what 'appened."

 

"Uh…" Nathaniel said, unsure of what the Texan was talking about. "Ok."

 

"An' what are ya doing out so early? Ah don't think the match starts for another hour or so pardner."

 

"BLU's respawn is down." The RED scout cut in. "Same as ours."

 

"Well ain't that mighty strange. Oh, hello Py."

 

The pyromaniac paused as it rounded the corner, obviously surprised by the situation before it. The red coloured Scout spun around again, only to come face to face the blue suited thing.

 

"Christ!" He yelled, jumping back several feet. "Ohdontkillmepleasedontkillme!"

The Pyro tilted its head head inquisitively at the cowering American before it, before sheathing its axe and patting the Scout on the head.

 

"Alrighty then." The BLU Engineer said, rounding the corner. "What in tarnation is goin' on?" He caught sight of the other engineer and nodded. "Morning Linus."

 

"He started it!" Nate exclaimed, pointing at the other scout.

 

"Py, don't set anything on fire. Frederick, Nathaniel, stop fighting. We both 'ave a job to do." He turned to face his blue coloured teammates. "You two. Ya comin' with me."

 

"Fine."

 

"Hrrmph."

 

The two followed engineer as he lead them over to the discarded fuse box.

"Well...looks like yah weren't exsag-er-atin' Scout."

 

"See! I _was_ freaking right!"

 

"Hrmmm…" Engineer said, ignoring the Scout and examining the box. "Ah don't understand 'ow this happened. Ah mean, what the heck has _that_ much power? Ah reckon not even _'eavy_ could rip that off…"

 

"I dunno. Can we get back inside now? I'm freaking _hungry._ "

 

"Didn'tya bring ya breakfast?"

 

"Nah. I kinda figured I'd just nick a sandvich from Heavy or somthin'."

 

"Well, ah can't fix this. Ah need some serious help here. Py, Scoot, we need ta go back an' tell Pauling about this."

 

"Dude, how are we gonna do that? We ain't got power remember? An' that means no freaking 'phone."

 

"Ah reckon we can sort something out."

 

* * *

**You found:**

 

The Tactical necessity

 

_**Level 17 sunglasses** _

 

_Equipable by Soldier, Sniper and Scout_

" _We are ALL soldiers now MAGGOTS! Yeah, yeah, whatever makes ya happy pal."_

* * *

 

"...An' that's why Captain America is the best freaking Avenger..." Scout concluded, opening the door to the base. "...an' not Iron Man. Any questions?"

 

"Scout, ah stopped listening or carin' five minutes ago." Engineer lazily drawled, his attention on his PDA. "In fact Scout, ah re-OMPH!"

 

Pyro, who had been listening raptly the whole time gave the Texan an elbow to the stomach.

 

"Errnmph!"

 

"What py?"

 

"Ymhp mrrmph hmph."

 

"Py, ah want 'im ta shut up, not ta go on."

The pyromaniac shrugged and muttered something unintelligible to even the Engineer, obviously peeved at him.

The trio walked into the now active base and instantly settled back into the normal morning rythm of activty.

 

At least, Scout did.

 

By now, everyone was awake and up. Demo was hovering next to Medic, trying to get some aspirin off him. Medic himself sat leaning against the wall, eyes barely open as he tried to desperately keep himself awake after yet another sleepless night. Heavy, Sniper and Spy were gathered by the window, all of them focused on a game of cards. Soldier sat in the middle of the room, ravenously devouring an out of date can of soup.

Scout's stomach rumbled in a painful reminder of when he'd last eaten. Walking over to where had deposited his bag, he pulled out a can of soda and a bar of chocolate out of it.

 

"Vhat a healthy breakfast." Medic dryly commented.

 

"Hey pal," Scout replied though a mouthful of chocolate. "'least I don't eat rotten shit like you do." he lifted his visor and smirked.

 

"Everybody! Ah have an announcement." Everyone's heads snapped up and turned to the e

 

Engineer. "We ain't fightin' today. Tha respawn's down an' ah need time ta fix it."

 

"Quite right Dell."

Everyone turned their heads to see the purple form of Miss Pauling entre the base, a clipboard in hand as she walked to the centre of the room.

 

"In light of the recent turn of events, the Administrator has decided to pull you all from not only today's match, but the current mission. You will all be sent back to Teufort where you will then receive further instructions. Any questions?" Scout raised his hand and the assistant rolled her eyes. "Is it related to the issue at hand Scout?"

 

"Kinda. How the freaking hell didya know about respawn bein' down an' shit?"

 

"We have known since last night when you checked the system. How we knew is not of your concern. Now, are there any other questions?"

 

"Hold on a second woman." Soldier barked. "We are ALL members of the GREAT american army! We have ALL fought without the technology of respawn before and we DO NOT need its bosom! We are ALL brave men and we will FIGHT for america to the FINAL death!"

 

"Mr Doe, there is a difference between being brave and being reckless. While I am sure that at one time you would have been able to fight off the RED team without the help of respawn, you have all since grown dependant on such technologies and the Administrator does not wish to be forced to find your replacements just yet."

 

"Eh?"

 

"The Administrator does not want you to die just yet men."

 

* * *

 

 

_Changelog 15-6-16_

_\+ Added chapter_

 

_/ Nailguns are awesome. There is nothing else for me to say on this topic._

_/ Scout dressed as classic scout won't be a permanent thing, I can assure you that. Can't say the same about the sunglasses though...speaking of these 'sunglasses', I've called it a 'visor' throughout this partly for consistency and partly because half scout's actions would make no sense if I said sunglasses._

_/ I had no idea Scout's VA was called Nathan before writing this. huh._

_/ Finally, calling the classes by their 'given' names is something that will be restricted to chapters involving dialogue between both teams so that you don't get confused. Outside of that situation though, they'll just be called Scout, Engineer, Medic, etc, etc unless the story calls for it._


	9. Back to home base

"Dibs on shotgun!" Scout shouted, running out of the base, swinging his overstuffed bag on his back.

 

"Scout, ya always get that spot. Ah don't see why ya have ta do that every time." Engineer called after the runner, but Scout had already slammed open the van's door and was clambering into the seat adjacent to the driver's seat before he could respond. He had been forced to change back into his (still wet) clothes by both Miss Pauling and the rest of the team for reasons they refused to explain – much to the annoyance of Scout.

Slamming the door behind him, Scout took off his bag and sat down, ignoring the seatbelt as he sat back and put his feet up on the dashboard. This was _definitely_ better than being stuck in the back, forced to listen to Heavy's 'funny' stories and Soldier's patriotic rants.

 

Speaking of the rest of the team, he could hear their chatter as they all exited the base, each class carrying a bag of some sort as the walked over to the van. Medic broke off from the rest of the group, making his way around to the other side of the driver's cabin as the six other men (and one of an unknown gender) made their way into the back part of the van, somehow stuffing themselves and their luggage between the array of medical equipment and arms already occupying that space.

 

"Scout, get your feet off there." Medic snapped, stuffing a black bag underneath his seat as he sat down in front of the steering wheel.

 

Scout rolled his eyes and sat up as the German started up the vehicle. There was a sudden yelp of drunken protest from behind them as he moved the ambulance out of its parked position and into to motion.

 

The rainclouds had fled from the sky, casting the land in the bright sun of a summer morning – a rarity for the decrepit base – as they started their drive through the rain soaked fields and plains of wherever-the-hell-in-america they were.

 

But even as the sun dried up the remains of last night's elemental chaos, Scout couldn't help but feel that this was only a temporary lull in the storm.

 

Sighing, he reached into his bag and dug out an old comic book. Flicking its slightly yellowed pages to where he had left off, he began to read. While he could certainly do a lot of things fast, reading was certainly not one of them as the minutes and eventually an hour ticked by as he poured over the book.

 

Certainly enough time for Medic to notice what he was reading.

 

"That is an old comic." He commented, his eyes wandering from the empty road ahead to the faded cover.

 

Scout looked up from his comic at the speaker, his eyes flicking between the two as he finally got what he was talking about.

 

"Oh jeez…" He guiltily shut the book and gave the Medic an apologetic glance. "Uh...sorry? I mean, I didn't mean to offend ya or anything...its kinda the only thing I brought along ta read – unless ya count the-"

 

"It's fine." He sighed. "I thought you vould be reading something a little more...modern, that's all."

 

"Hey, ya gotta respect the classics. An' anyways…" Scout's voice trailed off.

 

"Anyvays vhat?"

 

"I…" He glanced back up at Medic. "I 'pose I can't really hold back, can I? I mean, ya told me your...secret thing." Sighing, he propped his feet back up on the dash. "This aint mine. Well, it kinda is now, but it used to be Mike's. Mike's my oldest brother from my ma's first marriage with a dude called Ralph. He was an' Engie like ol' hardhat an' back in the war, he _loved_ comics. Collected them like crazy, 'specially the ol' Captain America ones." he flicked the comic's cover to illustrate his point. "So Mike kinda got his love of comics. An' his patriot-ness. He was kinda like Sol now I think about it."

"Then just after my second bro, Joe was born, he was killed in a freaking bar fight. So, Mike got his _entire_ comic collection."

 

"But how did _you_ get them?"

 

"I...I…" Scout's voice cracked for a moment before he quickly consoled himself. "I kinda inherited them. Ya see, I ain't exaggerating when I say he was like Sol. As soon as he was old enough, bam! He went into the freakin army. Got sent off to Vietnam. An'...an' he freaking _died_ there. Flamer like Pyro got 'im."

 

"And that's vhy you are scared of Pyro?"

Scout nodded, unable to say anything for a moment.

 

"I...I was seven when it freaking happened. An' I swear, my life went to the freaking pits when my ma' got the letter. She gave me his comics an' his 'tags." a bandaged hand went to the dog tags around his neck as he spoke, his voice on the verge of tears. "I don't know how I freaking managed after that. Mike was the only guy who ever cared for me and now he was gone, I...I…"

The van slowed to a halt and Scout looked up at Medic, half for an explanation to their sudden stop and half for _some_ sort of consolement. The German took off his glasses and looked at Scout, his blue eyes…

 

_His blue eyes._

 

Scout froze like a deer in the headlights, the sudden wave of emotions too conflicting for him to make a definite choice about what to feel.

 

How could he make _that_ mistake again?

 

"Oh fuck…" He whispered, fear finally overriding all other emotion.

 

"Spy?" The voice of the actual Medic came from around the truck as the doctor's head appeared at the driver seats window. He had removed his glasses and was blinking his eyes free of sleep as he blindly peered into the cabin. "Vhy haff ve stopped?" Putting his glasses back on, his expression suddenly changed from one of confusion to one of fear and anger. "Spy? Vhy are you disguised as me…?"

The BLU Spy dropped his disguise and opened the door, pushing past Medic and out of Scout's line of sight without a single word.

 

There was a silence as Scout removed his feet from the dashboard and slumped over it, burying his face in his hands in a desperate attempt to hide his tears.

 

The van started back up, filling the silent cabin with the gentle rumble of an engine. Minutes passed, but Scout didn't move at all.

 

"Vhat did he tell you?" Medic finally asked.

 

"He didn't tell me anything." The Bostonian mumbled through his arms. "It's what I told 'im."

 

"And vhat did you tell him?"

 

"I told 'im about my older brother."

 

"Vhich one? You haff six."

 

"Mike. He was the oldest. Til he freaking died." Scout lifted his head. "He got freaking flamed to death in Vietnam."

 

"And vhat is wrong vith spy knowing?"

 

"'Cause he's gonna put that against me. He's gonna use it as blackmail or some other spy shit." He sat up properly and rubbed at his eyes with the back of a hand. "Christ, what the freaking hell is _wrong_ with that bastard?" He bent down and retrieved the comic from the floor where it had dropped in all the action.

 

"That is a question one can ask _all_ of us Scout."

 

"Yeah, but…." Scout trailed off as the full implications of the statement hit him. "Hey! Are ya calling me crazy?"

 

"Crazy is a vord I vould use to describe Pyro. I am not that kind of doctor, but I do not think you are _that_ unstable."

 

"So ya still think I'm 'unstable'?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Seriously doc? Ya think _I'm_ unstable?" Scout's voice increased in speed as he talked, pausing not even to take a breath (much to Medic's confusion). "Heavy talks to his gun, Sol' thinks the other team are commies, Snipes _throws his own goddamn piss at us_ , Demo has a freaking drinking problem, Engie cut off his own freaking _arm_ , Spy is a fucking pervert, you care more about ya stoopid birds than us an' I don't even know where to fucking _begin_ with Pyro...I'm the sanest person on the entire fucking team! What the fuck's wrong with _me?_ "

 

"That is simple." He turned his head, his (thankfully) brown eyes meeting Scout's steel blue ones. "Scout, vho is your father?"

 

"I don't have one." He flatly replied.

 

"And there is your problem." he turned his eyes back to the road. "Vi _all_ know who he is. Including you."

 

"Medic, I don't have a father." Scout insisted, his voice suddenly and strangely serious. "I don't know and I don't care what your science says, I _do not have a father._ "

Medic let out a satisfied 'hmm', having proved his point.

 

"Is that seriously ya only bit of evidence? I mean, ain't you science-y types all about 'data' and 'information'? So where's the other evidence? And if I ain't the sanest here, then who is? 'cause it certainly ain't you pal."

 

"I do not know vho is the 'sanest' here Herr Scout. As I said, I am not a psychologist. And while you certainly do not talk to guns or heads, I can definitely say that you are not the epitome of mental health."

 

"The epi-what now?"

 

"Nothing." He sighed.

The cabin lapsed into silence as neither person wanted to continue the conversation they were having.

 

Not wanting to open the comic book again, Scout turned his attention to his wrapped hands. The bandages, which had been a pristine white barely a day ago, were now a dirty shade of brown, stained by his fall into the mud earlier. Teasing out one end from underneath the wound cloth, he began to unwind the dirty wrappings from his hand.

Scrunching the discarded cloth up into a ball, Scout inspected the bundle before rolling down his window and throwing it out of the truck. He turned back to catch a disapproving glare from Medic, which he only shrugged off.

He picked up his back from off the floor and rummaged around in it, before pulling out an empty red spool.

 

"Aw crap." He swore, inspecting the spool for a moment before tossing it out of the window too. "Hey doc, ya got any bandages up here?"

 

"Check the glove compartment. But please close that vindow."

 

"Sure, whatever doc." He shrugged, rolling back up the glass.

 

"Danke."

 

Scout opened the glove compartment before him, only to be greeted with an indignant coo as a pristine white dove poked its head up and looked angrily at Scout.

 

Well, maybe the 'angrily' part was just Scout's imagination.

 

"Jesus!" Scout yelled, flailing his arms about in surprise. "There's a freaking bird in here!"

The bird in question flew out of the cramped compartment over to its master, where it perched on his shoulder.

 

" _Nein Descartes_." He muttered, shooing the dove away. " _Ich fahre_."

 

"Descartes? What happened to ol' archie? An' who the freaking hell is 'Descartes'?" The bird landed on Scout's arm, his claws painfully digging into his bare flesh.

 

"Archimedes is in the van. I think I saw Pyro feeding her. Descartes was a french philosopher who came up with-"

 

"Right. Old French thinker dude. Got it." Scout cut in, not wanting to find himself at the receiving end of one of the Medic's philosophical lectures.

 

"Descartes was more than just a thinker Scout. He was also a mathematician."

 

"Ok, old French math dude too." He replied, pulling out a roll of bandages from the compartment.

 

"Scout?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"Vhere did that scar come from?"

 

"What?" Scout looked at the German, confused by the sudden change in conversation.

 

"The one on your hand."

 

"This? It's nothing. None of your freaking business."

 

"As your doctor, it is my business."

 

"Fine. got it first day here. Bumped into the other Spy and he decloaked right in front of me. I had no freaking idea of what the freaking hell was going on so I grabbed 'im. 'Cept I grabbed his freaking knife, not his arm. The blade made this." He pointed at the faded scar. "You had just put a freaking _bird_ in me, so there was no freaking way I was gonna go to you for help, so it kinda healed by itself."

 

"That vas...anticlimactic."

 

"Hey, sorry but I ain't some freaking movie star. Kinda wish I was though. I mean, do ya know how awesome a movie my life would make? I mean, I'd make it at least a hundred and ten percent cooler than what really happened-"

 

"That is not how percentages vork scout."

 

"-I mean, I'd be the one who defeated the other team and then Heavy's sister (who is really hot here by the way) would come and propose to me over the dead body of the RED Spy but I'd refuse 'cause I'd be saving myself for Miss Pauling, who is totally in love with me here…"

 

* * *

 

_changelog 18-6-16_

_\+ added chapter_

_/ hooray! new chapter! and a much better one at that! back when this was in an alpha stage, this one and chapter 7 were switched around kinda, so we got scout's story in front of the lamp and medic's in the truck. but, hey, things change_


	10. Of sociopaths and maniacs

**_WARNING - contains graphic violence_ **

* * *

_Now loading base_2fort..._

* * *

 

"Is everyone here?"

 

There was a round of cries as the entire team confirmed their presence to the purple clad woman before them. Everyone had just spent several hours cooped up in a van that smelt dubiously of birds and flesh, so the reply wasn't _too_ enthusiastic.

 

That suited the assistant just fine however.

 

"After last nights events, you have all been taken off your current contract and will be put on low-priority intelligence and payload missions for the remaining duration of the month." There was a collective groan from the team as they heard this news. Low-priority meant lower pay and less action.

 

"Dell, you will be working with me, the Administrator and the opposing engineer to figure out the root of this problem as soon as possible. The rest of you, your next mission will be at 1015 hours tomorrow morning at gravel pit."

 

"Pauling, ah reckon ah already 'ave an idea of what's goin' on." The behatted Texan got up and walked over to the blackboard on the wall that was usually reserved for team briefings.

"For several years now, we, as Fortress Industries have been vying for tha high position of 'national defence contractor'. For those of ya who don't know, this is a highly prestigious place that'll grant tha holder a large slice of tha Amurican defence budget. Now, as ya can imagine, we ain't alone in the line for this position. We 'ave two other competitors." He turned to draw something on the board. "They are Black Mesa an' Aperture Laboratories. Now, at tha moment, Aperture Laboratories hold tha contract, but ah reckon either of those two companies would do _anything_ ta hold or keep it."

 

"So, who's pulled a bloody spy on us mate?" Sniper asked, leaning back in his chair and examining a fresh jar of jarate.

 

"Ah reckon it's Black Mesa." He circled the cooperation in chalk. "Ah know Cave Johnson personally and while he's a fine scientist, he's a few metal short of a sentry if ya know what ah mean. He ain't got the intelligence ta pull somthin' off like this. Also, our company has been coll-ab-er-atin' with them for a while now an' it ain't exsac-tly in their best interest ta go an' backstab us. An' also, acordin' ta Cave, they've had a Mesa sabotage recently too."

 

"On ze contrary," Spy interjected, removing his cigarette from his mouth. "I think Aperture is _exactly_ what we are looking for."

 

"Spah, ya know how stupid ya sound right now? That makes no darn sense."

 

"Oh ho ho, but it does." He got up and walked over to the black board and picked up another piece of chalk. "While Johnson is certainly more than slightly eccentric, we have his delightful zecond in command, Caroline. She, unlike her superior, has the intelligence to construct such a plan like this."

 

"Ah would point out two things to ya spook. One, shes a lady. She ain't got tha brains for this kinda operation."

 

There was a simultaneous snort of disapproval from Sniper, Heavy, Pyro and Pauling.

 

"An' two, she'd need inside information. Aperture isn't exactly known for their stealth, so they ain't got a spah in 'ere."

 

"Oh, the information. For zat, we'd need a leak." He smiled and walked over to Sniper. "And I know who zat leak is."

 

"I don't like what ya implying spook." Sniper growled. Spy used the end of his cigarette to force snipers chin up, making his greenish blue eyes meet spy's grey-blue ones.

 

"Monsieur Flinders, you are seeing Caroline, non?"

 

"Are ya suggesting that I'd do-"

 

"Oui. I am."

 

"An' why the bloody hell would I do that? I'm a _professional,_ not some dirty backstabbing bastard like you!"

 

"Oh, that is easy. Fortress industries is a subdivision of Mann Co., a company that could be described as the _embodiment_ of everyzing Australian. The embodiment of everything you are not. You would do _anything_ to show your country you are worthy of ze title of Australian - or failing zhat, _anything_ to show them zhat you are better than them, even if it would mean taking down zhis team. After all," He leaned in closer to Sniper, his grin growing even bigger. " _Zhese are just mercenaries. Idiotic, ametuer, crazed gunmen, not proffesional assasins like you. Zhey are not your friends. Zhey. do. Not. matter. To. you. After, all what iz it you say? 'Be polite, be efficient and have a plan to kill everyone you meet'? Zhat would include this team, non?_ " Spy leaned back and turned to face Engineer, straightening his lapels as he did so.

"And zhere you have it monsieur Dell. you have your leak, your saboteur _and your target_."

 

"Ah can't help but feel ya workin' for a different agenda 'ere Spah."

 

"I was not aware I was _ever_ working for _your_ agenda Dell."

 

"So you are implying that one of these companies are sabotaging us?" Miss Pauling quickly asked, not wanting to let this escalate into an argument, _especially_ when she had to report to the Administrator in five minutes.

 

"Ah reckon so Pauling. It makes sense either way ah guess."

 

"Spook, if ya seriously implying that I'd go and sell this team out simply for _revenge_ , ya got another thing comin' for ya mate. And," Sniper got up and walked over to spy, leaning in so close to him the Frenchman took a step back from the overpowering odor of coffee, sweat and piss. "If ya do _anything_ to Caroline, I'll fucking cut ya so hard they can hear ya screams down in Aus. Ya got that, ya french cheese eatin' fag?"

 

The Spy snorted at the Sniper and looked at him disdainfully down the bridge of his nose like he was something unpleasant he'd stepped in.

"Iz there really a need for such _childish_ insults Bruce? After all, it fails to aid to your drivel you call _conversation_. And anywayz, it adds nothing to the insult to Australia you already are."

 

"Are ya _seriously_ gonna do this mate? 'Cause ya asking to settle this _the Australian way_."

 

"Fine." Spy removed his dinner jacket as the watching mercs cleared a circle for the duelers. "So be it."

 

"Gentlemen!" The assistant snapped, but even her command could not calm the riled assassins.

 

"You will lose you know?" Spy smirked. "I am a highly trained agent of the french government."

 

"An' I fought a fucking croc bare handed mate." Sniper removed his glasses, hat and vest and put them aside. "Ya fancy tricks ain't gonna save ya now mate and ya bloody well know that."

 

"We'll see about that."

 

The two men circled each other for a moment, each one watching the other for a break in the others step where they could cut in.

 

Spy faulted first, his left leg landing awkwardly hitting the ground possibly as the result of some ancient injury. Sniper dove at the frenchman, only for Spy to slide impossibly quickly to the side before the other man hit.

Sniper stumbled forwards, the momentum of his throw forcing off balance. Spy continued this fall forwards by a swift kick delivered to his legs, knocking them out under the Sniper. While the Australian lay, slightly dazed by the turn of events, Spy jumped onto him, putting a knee against his back as he grabbed the man's arm and forced it behind his back.

 

"Over so soon?" the Frenchman asked, grinning as the australian let out a grunt of pain. "Really, I expected more for someone who fought _un crocodile._ "

 

While the Sniper certainly lacked the muscles of his homeland's true occupants, all that time spent living in a country saturated with australium had not been wasted. However, the most intense exercise the Spy had done in quite a while had probably involved Scout's mom. As a result, the faux-australian was _easily_ able to overpower the Spy, sending him tumbling off his back with a jerk of his pinned arm.

Each man quickly got up and glared at each other, Spy in hatred and Sniper in satisfaction, his grin revealing his unusually large canines.

 

"An' I thought you were a bloody Spy." he retorted.

 

And then suddenly, the Spy disappeared.

The Sniper spun around as the Frenchman turned invisible, expecting him to attack at that angle. The Spy decloaked directly behind him and grabbed the Sniper's head with one arm, flicking out a blade from his wrist with the other.

 

And with a quick and practiced slice, he sent the sharp blade of his wrist blade across the Australian's throat, its sharp edge slicing through his jugular vein.

 

There was a shout of pain and the Spy pushed the Sniper forwards, who fell to his knees. From behind him, Scout could hear Medic wince in pain as the doctor caught sight of the severed vessel and the resulting stream of blood.

 

"I am a Spy. What made you question _zhat?_ " The Frenchman smirked as he watched the Sniper bleed out in front of him.

 

"You...fucking...cheat." Sniper growled, his voice already unsteady from his blood loss.

 

The Medic muttered something in German about dumpkoffs and pushed his way out of the audience and over to sniper, a large wad of gauze already in his hands.

 

"And what do you zhink you are doing Josef?" Spy asked as the German kneeled down before the Australian.

The Medic ignored him as he turned his attention to the Sniper. He had removed his gloves and had a hand to the Australian's neck in an effort to staunch the bleeding, with another on his wrist.

 

"Eins..zwei..drei.." He muttered, glancing from his watch to the pale skin of the injured Australian. "Someone get me a health-kit."

 

"Leave him." Spy commanded.

 

"Vhat?"

 

"Let him die." Spy looked down at the bleeding man with a slight smirk on his face. "He needs to learn a lesson."

 

The Medic turned his attention fully back on to his patient, with no intention of following the Spy's order's.

"Herr flinders, I need you to stay calm..." he trailed off halfway through his sentence as the spy pressed his still wet blade to the back of the medic's neck.

 

"I said, _leave him._ Unless you want to join him zhat is."

 

" _Nein._ "

 

The Spy let out a small hmph and pushed the blade into the man's neck, the metal edge severing dozens of neural connections and veins as it did so. He didn't scream as for a fleeting moment, he was aware of the knife in his spine, its presence setting afire all the nerves there.

 

And then, the Spy jerked free his blade, sending the fresh corpse to the floor with a dull thud. Bending down, he used the tip of his blade to dislodge the dead man's hand from the Sniper's neck, widening the cut on his neck as he did so.

 

There was a stunned silence as everyone stared at the Spy in horror.

 

"Does anyone else wish to challenge my authority?" He asked, his tone surprisingly light for someone who had just killed another person.

 

"Christ…" Scout whispered, his face white with fear. He could feel the acid burn of bile creep up his throat and it took all his willpower to keep it down. "I think I'm gonna be sick…"

 

Yes, they were all mercenaries, but _none_ of them, not even _Pyro_ would willingly kill someone in cold blood. They always had a motive, be it money, revenge or defence. They all had standards and ethics.

 

Expect for Spy, who had just murdered one of their teammates and his healer without as much as a second thought.

 

Behind the Spy, the Sniper let out one final gasp and slumped to the floor, his skin a deathly white, his blood staining the floor and the white coat of the Medic.

 

"Ymphm." The blue form of the Pyro stood up and walked over to the Spy.

 

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand you." Spy looked at the thing in obvious disgust.

 

The Pyro let out a short of contempt and gave the Spy the middle finger.

 

"You aren't any better than Scout, you know?" He said while inspecting his blade, the brilliant red blood already starting to dry to a rust red colour. Sheathing the blade back up his shirt cuff, he activated his watch, turning invisible once again.

 

The Pyro stood there unmoving for a second, its mask hiding anything that could be used to discern it's emotion.

 

And then suddenly, it reached an arm out and grabbed ahold of the invisible Spy.

The Spy let out a hiss of annoyance and dropped his illusion. The Pyro had grabbed ahold of his left arm and was holding it in an almost vice-like grip. The Spy raised its other arm to strike with his blade, but if the thing even _felt_ the attack, it made no sign of it.

The thing let out a snort of what sounded like laughter and gripped the Spy's arm even tighter, causing him to wince in pain.

 

But it didn't stop there. The thing spun the Spy around and slammed him into the ground, holding his arm there in a direct copy of what had happened to Sniper minutes earlier. There was a sudden sickening snap and the Spy let out a strangely shrill scream of pain.

 

Satisfied with its result, the Pyro got up off the Spy and inspected the wound on its arm.

 

"You sick bastard…" The Spy muttered, trying to get up. His left arm hung limp from where the firestarter had broken it, making the activity rather difficult.

 

The thing let out what sounded like a snort of laughter and looked down at the Frenchman.

 

"Mmph thp smmpk nnph?" It let out another laugh, this time louder. It kneeled to the injured Spy and Scout swore that if he could see the things face, it would be grinning.

 

It didn't say anything else, but instead procured a blue box of matches from a pouch on its belt. It took one out and it instantly burst into flames, despite the fact that the thing had done nothing to light it.

 

It stared at the flame for a long moment, lost in the almost hypnotic movement of the yellow flame before looking back to the Spy.

 

And then, it tossed the lit match onto the Spy.

 

The Frenchman instantly caught fire, the yellow-orange tongues of flame licking up his clothes and skin.

 

For a single moment, the look on the Spy's face was one of sheer horror before the flame took over his features, twisting them into a horrific, burning parody of his façade.

 

And the thing just sat there, watching the fire as it burned, turning the man into a pile of ashes and smoke.

 

"Fuck…" Scout whispered, unable to say anything else. He felt his stomach heave and he turned to the side, unable to keep back the wave of bile that had been pushing at his throat the whole time.

 

He stood there for a moment, the contents of his stomach on the ground in a pile, the acidic smell of bile and vomit mingling with the acrid smell of burning flesh that filled up the room.

 

He could see what medic meant now. This team was pretty damn fucked up.

 

* * *

_changelog 21-6-16_

 

_\+ Added chapter_

_\+ Added tag_

 

_/ well...that just happened. apologies if that seemed a bit gratuitous...but did you really expect me to forget that one of my main characters is_ a fire-spewing daemon salamander pyromaniac from the pits of tartarus?  _nope._

_/ also, yay for tie-ins! (what? did you expect me to ship sniper with the overwatch or the admin?)_


	11. Steel blue

_Tick...tick...tick…_

 

The clock on the wall counted down the seconds, each moment taking seemingly longer than the last to pass.

 

Scout groaned and rolled his head back, the back of it hitting the white and blue wall of the respawn room.

Respawning outside of battle always took _forever_ as the Engineer always kept the thing on minimum power when they weren't actively fighting.

 

After the fight had been broken up by Pyro burning Spy alive, the team had split up to deal with what had happened in their own ways. And despite his preconceived popularity, Scout had all of a sudden found himself very alone.

 

Now that he thought about it, he really didn't have that many friends in the team. Heavy, Engineer and Spy both saw him as an unprofessional who should really be in school instead of running around out here killing people, Sniper and Demoman saw him as a hyper kid who was necessary for the team to work, but who could also cut down a little on his sugar intake, Soldier saw him as yet another rebellious private in his imaginary army and he wasn't actually quite sure about what Pyro and Medic thought of him. He was only really friends with Demo and Soldier to be entirely honest, and even then, only when they were lucid and sober. Everyone else waved him away for being brash, immature or for just being too young.

 

He sighed.

 

Even here, the stigma of being the youngest still followed. Just this time, he was the youngest of nine, not seven.

Being the youngest always meant that you were left out and looking round here, Scout couldn't help but see that that rule applied here too. Everyone here had someone else they could depend on. Engineer had Pyro, Heavy had Medic, Demo had Soilder and then there was that weird rivalry between Sniper and Spy that Scout couldn't help but think was something for than just a rivalry...

 

Scout quickly shook his head in disgust at the image his mind had formed. Christ, that man was a fucked up pervert, no matter how he looked at him. One moment, he was the utter picture of gentlemanly charm, the next he was slitting someone's throat over some petty dispute. As much as the unstable firebug scared him, Spy, with all his powers of invisibility and charm, almost scared him even more.

 

A growling noise interrupted his thoughts as his stomach painfully reminded him that he had yet to have a proper meal that day. Maybe he should get and get something to eat. It wasn't like the rest of the team were going to respawn anytime soon. And anyways, what was he hoping that the remaining three classes could do? Sniper would just call him 'ankle-boiter' and shoo him away, Medic would just disappear back down to his office without a single word and Scout _really_ didn't want to bump into Spy again.

 

"Scmrph?"

 

The Scout was suddenly dragged out of his thoughts as a familiar blue figure entered the respawn room. He could feel fear overtake his mind again as the Pyro walked over to him and sat down. He couldn't stay here. This...thing had burnt a man to death and laughed all the while. Who was to say it wouldn't do the same to him?

 

"Oh jesus...get away from me ya freak!" He yelled, fear raising the pitch of his voice to a squeak. He scooted away from the firebug, but his escape was impeded when his back hit the corner of the room.

 

The thing looked at him for a long moment before letting a long, muffled sigh and turning away.

Scout sat there for a long, five minutes, not daring to move his eyes away from the thing in the fear that it'd set something (namely him) on fire.

 

But it didn't do anything of the sort. It just sat there, head tilted slightly down with its hands in its lap.

 

Eventually, he looked away, letting out a shaky breath as he did so. Right now, he wanted to be out on the battlefield more than ever, where his biggest concern was where the Engineer had put his sentry, not if their own Spy would turn his own blade against them. He had _power_ out there, he could do something instead of cowering in fear like he was in here. He didn't have to watch Spy murder his teammates when he had a gun in his hands.

 

He took off his bag and got out his gun. _Why_ didn't he just go ahead and shoot the sick bastard when he had that knife of his to Medic's neck? That was all the Pyro had done, so why couldn't he do the same? Hell, why was he scared of Spy in the first place?

His mind kept on going on circles as he contemplated the same questions over and over again until they almost made no sense and he'd given himself a headache. Eventually, he gave and up and put his gun away.

 

Suddenly, the room was lit up with a flash of azure light as finally, the Medic respawned.

 

The man staggered for a few steps before collapsing on the ground. He had a gloved hand on his neck and a look of excruciating pain on his face.

 

"Doc!" Scout yelled, jumping up and running over to the fallen man. "Christ, ya alright pal?"

 

"Vhat?" He asked, confusion in his voice. "Scout? Vhat are you doing here?"

 

"Uh…" Scout paused. There was no way he was going to admit the truth about this one. "Reasons."

The Medic nodded, his mind too focused on the pain in his neck to fully understand what Scout had said.

 

"Vhat happened aftervards?"

 

"Well…" Scout paused for a second. "Snipes died an' then Spy kinda threatened us an' then...Pyro burnt 'im."

 

"That vas not our Spy?"

 

"Nah, it was. Pyro burnt our own Spy. An'," he swallowed nervously. "And he laughed while doing it."

 

Medic sighed and pushed himself up into a standing position.

 

"Ya right doc. This team's screwed up. Majorly screwed up." The German sagely nodded at this.

"Well...ya see why I don't have a father now?"

 

The Doctor opened his mouth as if to say something, but instead paused, contemplating scout's question for a second.

"Da." He finally replied. "I can see vhy."

 

Another flash of blue light interrupted them as sniper suddenly appeared clutching at his throat. He staggered backwards before hitting the wall, the impact knocking his hat and glasses off.

 

"Yo Snipes!" Scout called. "You're back!"

 

"Bloody hell…" He muttered, realising that he was back within the blue and white walls of the respawn room. "What are you'se lookin' at mate? And what the bloody hell are ya doin' 'ere ankle-boiter?"

 

"Y'know, stuff." Scout shrugged. "An' why not? I ain't got anything better ta do."

 

"So, what 'appened?"

 

"Pyro killed 'im. Set 'im on fire and...and laughed."

 

"Well, that bugger bloody well deserved it." Sniper spat at the mention of the Frenchman.

 

"Dude...Pyro set 'im on fire. _And laughed about it._ I mean, Spy didnt even attack 'im or anything! She just.."

 

"Scout, we get the bloody point. Py's messed up. Ya don't need ta fixate on it."

 

"Indeed gentlemen." There was another flash of blue as the Spy respawned back into existence. Unlike the other two, he didn't stumble or trip at all. Lighting a cigarette, he smiled at the three genially, as if he hadn't murdered two of them earlier. "To be entirely honest, I don't even know why we have zhat daemon spawn on our team."

 

"Christ!" Scout yelled, spinning around to face the man, who was standing uncomfortably close to him.

 

The other two men whipped out their weapons and pointed them at the spy.

 

"Ya bloody cunt…" Sniper swore, his kukri at the ready.

 

" _Schadenfreude_..." Medic muttered under his breath, pointing his needle gun at the man.

 

"There is no need for name calling, Bruce, Josef." Spy childed, taking ahold of Scout's shoulder. "I only wanted to talk. Oh well. Scout?"

 

"What do ya want ya per-" His sentence was suddenly cut off as he let out a squeak of pain as the Spy jabbed something into his neck.

Seconds later, his vision blackened as his mind fell into a sudden, drug induced sleep.

 

* * *

 

"Scout?"

 

Scout blinked his eyes open and let out a yelp as he saw the masked form of Spy meaning over him. He was lying down on a bed somewhere, but he couldn't identify where. It was too clean to be either his bed or the infantry bed…

 

Moments later, the smell of the room hit him and he knew _exactly_ where he was.

 

"Christ!" He yelled, trying to jump up off the bed, but his head was still swimming from whatever the Spy had injected him with and he only succeeded in getting tangled in the bed covers.

He flailed for a moment like a fish out of water before calming down a little.

 

"Quite done now?" Spy inquired, inspecting his gloved fingers.

 

"What the fucking hell have you done to me?!" He yelled, panic making his voice squeak. "Are ya gonna kill me?!"

 

"Oh hush." He snapped irritatedly. "I only wanted to talk."

 

Scout tried to say something else, but his voice had risen so high in pitch from fear that all that was audible was a small squeak.

 

The Spy rolled his eyes and walked over to a chest of drawers located against one of the rooms walls, opening a draw and bringing out a syringe of some yellow fluid that Scout guessed he'd stolen from Medic.

He walked over with the hypodermic and grabbed one of Scout's flailing arms and jabbed him with the needle, extracting a scream of pain from the terrified runner. For about half a minute, the Scout was gripped in a fear unrivaled by anything that even the Pyro could produce as he feared for his own survival.

 

And then slowly, Scout found himself calming down as the concoction of chemicals finally reached his brain, making his mind calm down independent of his own will.

 

"What...the...fucking...hell...was... _that?_ " He panted, finally able to speak again.

 

"Just a mélange zhat has served me well in my past... occupation." He smiled. "Did you think that your fire-breathing ami was the only chemist in thiz team hmm?"

 

"Chemist?" Scout echoed, confused by his statement.

 

"Oui. Zhe science has its uses. For example, take zhat serum you are under the effect of. Very useful for calming down hostages and loosening tongues. But zhat is not what I brought you here to talk about."

 

"Then what the fucking hell did ya bring me here ta talk about?"

 

"Tsk tsk, and I thought your mère brought you up with more manners."

 

"Leave my ma' outta this ya creep!"

 

"Is zhat any way to talk to someone who is trying to help you?"

 

"Help me?! What the fucking hell are ya doing to _help_ me?! I mean, first that thing in the van an' now _this?_ "

 

"I am helping Scout. When was the last time you talked to someone about your brother, hrmmm? Josef may not be a psychologist, but I, on the other hand, am quite versed in zhe art of zhe mind." He took Scout's chin in one hand and pushed it up so that their identical blue-grey eyes met. "Look at yourself Nathaniel. Look at yourself and tell me that you are fine. I know I am not _him_ and that I cannot fix what he did, but I can at least try." He sighed. "I know I speak for both myself and your father when I say I only have one regret."

 

"That ya had me...well us?" Scout blurted out. "You two that perfectly clear when ya laid eyes on us."

 

"No." The Frenchman's voice lowered to a whisper. "That we didn't stay."

 

Scout was silent for a moment, absolutely unsure of what to do. He honestly had no idea whether he should believe the man or assume that this was just another thread in his intricate web of lies.

 

He looked into the man's eyes in the desperate hope that he could find some indication of his true motives within them.

 

But all he saw were the steel blue eyes that despite all his denials and proclamations, were a mirror image of his own — an undeniable truth about his heritage.

 

"Oh god…" Scout whispered, his unable to make up his mind about what to think.

The Spy withdrew his hand from the Bostonian's chin, his eye contact not wavering from the Scout's for a single moment.

 

But as he did so, Scout caught sight of something.

He could see for a moment, the linen cuff of his shirt just above where his concealed blade hid. It was stained a deep, rust red flaked with tiny pricks of gold.

 

Or rather, pinprick flakes of Australium from what he knew was the Sniper's blood.

 

Scout stared at the blood stained cuff as his mind kicked into overdrive. What was he thinking? He couldn't trust this man. He was a sociopath, not a man looking to make amends with his son's double. He looked back up at the Frenchman, horror slowly creeping over his face. All he could see now on that balaclava clad face was the self-satisfied smirk he had worn when he had plunged his blade into the base of the Medic's neck.

He edged backwards from him, words catching in his throat as a fear that not even whatever drugs the man had injected him with could keep down rose up from within him.

 

The Frenchman, realising his mistake, quickly backed away, a hand going to the watch on his wrist as he activated it. He gave the Scout one last look of sadness before he disappeared in a puff of reddish smoke.

 

The Scout sat on Spy's bed for a long, few minutes, his mind too shattered to think clearly. He wasn't confused, but more unable to think straight about what he'd seen. Maybe the Spy's drug's were having an effect on him, or perhaps it was something else, but he couldn't think properly at all.

 

The door slammed open and a blue figure ran in, blinking neon sign at the ready, but Scout was too paralysed by his own thoughts to notice or care about the Pyro.

 

"Scmrph?"

 

Scout finally looked up at the muffled mention of his name. He had no idea what to say.

 

He didn't resist as the thing gently took him by the shoulder and helped him off the bed. He tried to stand, but whatever the Spy had given him was affecting his balance and he instantly collapsed to the ground as the world suddenly tilted on its side.

 

The thing bent down to him and offered a hand to help him up. He considered the gloved hand, his mind running through all the things it had done and all the pain it has caused him.

But then his mind went back to the murders of an hour ago. After all he had done, was it really fair to call this person a monster when all it has been doing was protecting the team?

 

And then he took the Pyro's hand.

 

* * *

 

changelog 23-6-16

 

\+ added chapter

 

/ well...I won't lie. I'm proud of this. I really am. I can only hope my writing is as good as I think it is.


	12. Hit the ground running

He was back in Medic's office.

 

Again.

 

The doctor sat at his desk, the blood stained form of Archimedes on his shoulder as he sat bent over his work. Next to him lay a vial of Scout's blood, which he had extracted earlier with an awful lot of screaming on the part of the runner.

 

"Doc, I'm _fine._ " He iterated for the fifth time that day. "An' I've been since yesterday. Can I just go now? The freaking match starts in a bit and there's _no way_ I'm missin' another battle."

 

The Medic turned his head to look at the Scout and sighed. He still had no idea what their Spy had done to the Scout. Despite all his knowledge and proclamations, his area of expertise was physiology, not pharmacy, which left him utterly lost in the tables of results and chemical formulæ before him.

 

The fact that Scout wouldn't shut up didn't help matters.

 

He glanced to his watch and let out an annoyed sigh. There was only twenty minutes left until the next match started and he knew he had to make a decision soon about whether or not Scout was fit to fight.

Shutting the book before him, he got up and picked up his lab coat from the back of his chair.

 

"Scout, you are dismissed. Vi vill expect you in the briefing room in tventy minutes."

 

"Alright! Thanks doc!" Scout grinned and bounced off the examination table and ran out of the room, pausing only to grab his hat, bag and headset from the hatstand by the door.

 

Medic sighed. putting on his coat, he then picked up his medigun's pack from where it lay on the desk. Letting Scout go and declaring him fit for battle was a bit of a risk, he knew, but a necessary one. Despite the (very vocal) assurances from the rest of the team, he knew that they would suffer without the abilities of the Scout and they had already lost four matches this week - another loss would mean _another_ pay cut and he was not willing to let that happen. And anyways, keeping him off the field would require him to admit to the Sdministrator that he didn't know quite as much as he claimed to. And while he was fine saying that to her (it wasn't like they couldn't replace him – where else were they going to find another medic with his skills, his enthusiasm and his medigun?), information like that had a habit of leaking out to the rest of the team, thanks to a certain, over-zealous frenchman.

 

And while the Administrator wouldn't replace him for incompetence, he couldn't say the same about the rest of the team…

He shook his head. They wouldn't do that. They were loyal to him, weren't they?

 

Were they?

 

Would they be loyal to him if Spy carried out what he had threatened earlier? Damn that man and his information. He knew too much. He knew too much not just about his practices and past, but too much about how to to manipulate and twist the truth.

 

To be entirely honest, he didn't understand why the Administrator had chosen that particular man to be their Spy. He always seemed to be on the verge of defecting or dropping out of existence. It seemed like more effort than it was worth to keep the man in line and check when she could just as easily stick a knife in his back and hire someone more trustworthy.

 

"Yo, doc? Ya alright?"

 

The Medic was shaken out of his thoughts as Scout stuck his head around the door.

 

"Scout?" the German asked, confused. "Vhat are you doing here?"

 

"Ya kinda seemed...silent. I mean, ya would usually be outta here like a rocket with that murderous grin of yours on ya face and ya saw in hand. Not in 'ere still."

 

"I vas...thinking."

 

"'Bout what? 'Cause if its ya philosophy, ya can forget I even asked. 'Eard enough about old greek dudes to last me a lifetime."

 

"Nein. About Spy."

 

"Oh, about that goddamn son of a bitch? Seriously, what is there to think about 'im? He's a fucking sociopathic backstabber that should be killed for reals." The american spat vehemently. "I mean, I dont give a fucking shit if he's bangin' my ma', he can go die in a fucking ditch already. I mean, do ya know what he brang me into 'is room for? He wanted to 'help'. He wanted to be my dad. Well, fuck you pal, but I ain't givin' you any chances, even if ya my best pal's dad, not mine. I mean, I gave ya your last fucking chance ten years ago at that baseball game an' ya fucking blew it. Ya might think ya have a hard time, with you two being on opposite sides of the old war an' all, but try having that bastard as ya mom's lover."

 

" _That's_ vhat he brought you in for?"

 

"Yeah. Can ya fucking belive the guy? I mean, ya go an' murder two of my teammates right in front of me an' then tell me ya wanna _help_ me? I mean, fuck it dude, I ain't the one who needs help, ya screwed up fag. Hell, with how fucking messed up ya are, I'd rather have _Pyro_ as my freaking dad, not you. At least she ain't gonna backstab me on fucking purpose and grin about. Though, he'd kinda flame me and grin about it, but at least she's fucking delusional!" The Scout paused and took a deep breath.

 

"Christ...I started ranting like Sol, didn't I? Man, I'm sorry pal."

 

"Don't be." The Medic grinned. "It is nice to know I am not the only one who detests that sveinhold. At least, for reasons that haff nothing to do with this game they call a var." He snorted. "Vi are fools to call this battle even. There is nothing to lose here, no lives at risk and no true goal. Vhatever purpose this little charade might of had vas lost years ago. But that is not my point."

 

"Then what is it pal? Why does he hate _you?_ Did you two meet in the war an' have an epic battle? 'Cause that would be awesome."

 

"Nein, unfortunately. He hates me for vhat my country did, vhich vas understandable at first. But even after _years_ of stressing my affiliations, he still holds it against me." The German ground his teeth in frustration. "He has all the information he needs to twist this team against me – all he is waiting for is the perfect moment – the moment vhere this team and it's fate does not concern him any longer." He sighed. "All he needs is one comment to the right person and...and I vill just be another death in this 'war'. A death that I do not think vill come from the Administrator."

 

"Yeesh...that's kinda harsh…" Scout let out a low whistle. "...but doncha have friends here? Y'know, what about Heavy and Sol?"

 

"They vould be the first people to turn against me." he snorted. "Soldier's mind vould _explode_ if he ever found out. And Heavy…" He sighed. "I dont know vhat he vould do."

 

"Seriously? I mean, I ain't like Py' with his obsession with friendship an' magic an' ponies an' all that shit, but the guy's your best pal! Ya really think he's gonna turn on ya 'cause ya ended up on the wrong side of a war?"

 

"You vouldn't understand."

 

"Dude, why not?"

 

"You veren't there."

 

"Oh." there was a silence as scout looked around for something to say. "Well...if that ever does 'appen...I'll be here." He grinned at the Medic. "You ain't the only guy 'ere who hates 'im ya know. And seriously dude, ya underestimate who the freaking hell I am. Ya underestimate who _we_ are. We're a freaking team, an' dick or not, Spy ain't gonna be able to break us apart anytime soon. Ya gotta take a leap of faith and realise this team ain't leave ya behind any time soon doc. It ain't gonna leave any of us behind. An' you're right. This _is_ a game an' it's always been one. And that's a good thing – this war was never meant to be taken seriously. This aint a war where soldiers die an' people get killed for being different. This is a war where I use a freaking fish as a bat an' Snipes chucks his piss at everyone. Just 'cause one guy decides ta try an' change all that ain't mean we gotta listen to him."

 

"But vhat about you?"

 

"What about me pal?"

 

"Vhat you said may be true, but it does not help you."

 

'Well…" Scout's grin disappeared. "I'll be fine. I just gotta take it all in stride. Can't let it affect me. Ya gotta be ready to get out there an' hit the ground running even if it hurts, y'know? Can't stop an' pause for thought in this game." He grinned again, but this time, it seemed to carry less of his trademark enthusiasm and arrogance.

"Come on. We should get ready to go. We got a battle to win an' that RED team ain't gonna beat their own heads in."

 

 

* * *

 

  
Changelog 27-6-16

\+ Added chapter

 

/ sorry this took a while, but this was a quite hard one to write. went through countless rewrites and countless restarts. the very original actually involved unmasked!pyro, but that was scrapped 'cause it kinda felt...wrong. next chapter shall actually involve the other plot, so hooray!

/ also, its so short 'cause I didn't really have anything else to add to it without repeating. I promise the next one shall be longer. much longer.


	13. Spectators

_Now loading cp_gravelpit…_

 

* * *

 

"Fall in SOLDIERS!" The Soldier yelled as he marched into the BLU base. "We have THIRTY MINUTES until battle and I want you to report to me READY for duty IN FIVE! That means MILITARY GRADE hats PYROTECHNICIAN!"

 

The Pyro (who had been poking Heavy with one of its colourful pony plushies) too one look at the man and then turned back to its poking. It was wearing a large, cyan coloured wig and it wasn't going to take off its new hat just because some delusional soldier said so.

 

"Yeesh. Some people." Scout let out a snort as the Soldier glared at him and went back to examining his hangnail. "I mean pal, you're one to talk. Can ya even _see_ with that helmet o' yours on?"

 

"Are you ANSWERING BACK to me PRIVATE?!" The man marched over to where Scout was slouched against the resupply locker.

 

"Not anymore Sol." Scout grinned and ducked underneath the Soldier's arm as the man made a grab for his dog tags in an effort to restrain him.

 

Quickly maneuvering himself out of the Soldier's grasp, Scout did a quick check of the room before making his way to the building's exit. After seeing that everyone was present, he left the cool, blue interior of their base into the hot midday sun of the map. Thirty minutes was more than enough time for a quick lap or ten around the base, especially as he wasn't planning on 'reporting' to Soldier.

Technically, no one was meant to be outside of the base area until the match started and there was a gate in place to enforce that rule, but that wasn't going to stop him. It had never stopped him before after all.

 

Ignoring the two tunnels on either side of the clearing in front of the base, he walked over to the rock face in the middle. Using the pile of wood as a starting point, he grabbed ahold of the rock and began to quickly scale the vertical wall of rock.

 

While to any other class, such a feat would've been impossible (hence why there was nothing stopping him from taking that route), it was relatively easy for the runner. Despite his rather unhealthy diet of soda and fried foodstuffs, one didn't spend years in an occupation where running was crucial without managing to maintain a (relatively) healthy physique.

 

Pulling himself up over the edge of the rock face, Scout found himself looking out over the battlefield, the primary point to his left and the secondary one to his right, with the final and tertiary one directly in front of him.

Adjusting the brim of his hat so that it shaded more of his face from the midday sun, he looked out over the map and smiled.

 

Then again, why did he need to go for a jog? It wasn't like anyone was watching. Not even the Administrator had eyes up _here._

 

Setting his bag down on the uneven rocks, he sat down and dug out a comic book and a purple can of soda.

Opening the comic, he settled down and began to read.

 

* * *

_Scout (BLU) has joined team SPECTATORS_

* * *

 

_Match 1 of 6.24.74 begins in three minutes gentlemen!_

 

"Christ!" Scout shouted as the administrator's voice suddenly sounded in his left ear, dragging out of his trance. He hadn't meant to spend _this_ long away from the team.

Putting the comic and his (now empty) can down, Scout walked over to the edge where he had come to get up here. Maybe if he was stealthy enough, he could sneak back into the base and pretend he'd gotten stuck in the bathroom or something…

 

"ATTENTION MAGGOTS!"

 

Ok, maybe not…

 

Jerking his head away from the cliff edge before the Soldier could see him, Scout reconsidered his plan. He was _not_ going down if Soilder was there. He had better things to do with his time than be forced to listen to the delusional rants of that madman.

 

Walking back to where he had deposited his bag and comic, Scout sat back down. He was left with two options. Wait until the match had started and slip back into the battle, or spend the rest of the match up here.

 

Opening his bag and bringing out yet another can of soda, he settled back down. Contemplating the can, he smiled. Why did he need to bother with fighting anyway? This was a low priority mission and anyways, it wasn't like anyone was going to miss him on the field if the team's constant complaints were anything to go on.

 

Three minutes later, an air raid siren sounded and then the field below erupted into the bloody entropy that the gravel wars were best known for.

Opening the can of purple drink, Scout watched the battle bellow with interest as the two teams battled each other over the primary point.

 

From up here, the scene almost looked like something from a video game and – Scout thought as the corpse of a RED Sniper flew over the rock divide, nearly hitting him – a rather over-the-top one at that.

 

"Man, some people." he grinned, turning to where the corpse of Sniper had fallen. "Who gotcha? Sol? Demo?"

The Sniper, (of course) didn't say anything. He was dead.

 

"Christ," Scout said, looking over the edge where he could see their demoman sneaking a drink from his...fry-pan. "We are crazy. But hey, I ain't complainin'."

 

"I know right? Hey, wanna give me a hand here Nate?"

The Scout spun around to see the other Scout's head poking over the cliff as he tried to pull himself up onto the plateau the BLU Scout was on.

 

"Rick!" Nate grinned and grabbed ahold of the enemy Scout's hand and pulled him up. "What the freaking hell are ya doing up here! And how did you find me?"

 

"Well, I kinda thought I'd escape that clusterfuck and join you up here." He pointed over his shoulder at the battle below. "I ain't much for defendin', so they ain't gonna miss me. An' I kinda saw ya climbing up here in setup. Hey, is that the new Avengers?" he pointed at the comic next to the Scout's bag.

 

'Yeah, it is."

 

"Neat! Wanna trade? I got Batman."

 

"Sure! Just dont tell Soilder 'bout this. Man, he'd be so freaking mad if he saw us _not_ killing each other…"

 

"Sure thing pal! My lips are sealed if yours are too."

 

"Hey, ya aint gotta worry 'bout me."

 

"How do I know? Ya could be a Spy."

 

"Would a Spy be drinking this?" He pointed to his soda.

 

"Nah. he'd be all 'that stuff is bad for your health' an' shit. Well, 'cuse me pal, but ya don't look like the freaking medic, do ya? Seriously pal, a bit o' sugar and radiation never hurt anyone, right?"

 

"Heh...wish that was all 'e did."

 

The red coloured Scout groaned.

 

"Our Spy been buggin' you again pal? I thought I freaking told 'im..."

 

"Nah, not your bastard. Mine."

 

"Seriously? Man, this I gotta hear." He pulled out a yellow can from his pocket and sat down, opening it. "What's that guy done now?"

 

"Ok, so first, you remember the thing at Sawmill? An' how we didn't end up fighting?"

 

"'course I do."

 

"Well, after that, he kinda went all weird and serious and went an' kinda _killed our own freaking Sniper_."

 

"Seriously? I mean, this was back when you were in ya base?" The BLU scout nodded. "Wow...man, what the freaking hell did _Sniper_ do ta piss him off _that_ much?"

 

"Well, Spy was kinda saying that Sniper was behind the entire thing at sawmill. Something about some laboratory and shit about that guy who said he'd make exploding lemons and sniper's girlfriend…"

 

"Wait, wait, _Sniper's girlfriend?_ We talkin' about the same dude here? As in, the guy who lives in a  _camper van_  and chucks his own _piss_ at us?"

 

"Yup. Same guy."

 

"As in the guy we saw doing...y'know... _stuff_ with Spy?" The RED Scout's face turned as red as his shirt as he mentioned that... _incident_.

 

"Yeah...that one."

 

"So, uh...what happened next?" He quickly added, desperate to get of the topic.

 

"Well after that, Medic tried to go in and do his entire healing thing with Snipes, but then Spy killed 'im too."

 

"I don't get it. How is this related to what he did to you. Did he kill you too?"

 

"Nah. Just thought I'd give some 'background info' like Hardhat keeps on telling me."

 

"Oh yeah...can ya skip it though? I ain't Hardhat."

 

"Alright. So, shit happened, I went to respawn ta see if Doc and Snipes were alright and then boom! He drags me into his fucking room!"

 

"Wait, WHAT?!" the Scout exclaimed, waving his arms so hard he nearly fell over. "But you're...he's...wait, Spy has a fucking room?"

 

Nathaniel stared at the other Scout for a few dumbfounded seconds before finally getting what he meant.

 

"Aw christ, ya fucking pervert!" He gave the enemy Scout a joking shove. "Did ya seriously thought I meant it like _that?_ "

 

"Could'a fooled me." He grinned. "So, if he didn't do that, what _did_ he do?"

 

"Well, turns out he wanted to talk. 'bout me." The Scout retelling the story swallowed. "He wanted to be my dad."

 

There was a silence as the RED Scout slowly shook his head.

 

"Wow... seriously dude? Man...I can't believe that guy. I mean...after what he did? He didn't even consider that I…" he trailed off, not quite sure what to say.

 

"You alright Rick?"

 

"Yeah, yeah...Nate, can ya do me a favour?"

 

"Sure...what?"

 

"Next time ya see that son of a bitch, can ya remind him that I'm still here?"

 

"Sure."

 

"Nate, I'm serious about this." He grabbed ahold of the blue Scout's shoulder. "That man is one of the sickest men I have ever had the bad luck to meet. Do. Not. Do. _Anything._ To. Encourage. Him. He ain't gonna do whatever he says he's gonna do. He left me an' my ma' when we needed 'im the most an' he's just gonna do the same to you. I'm serious here. _Dead_ serious. Don't believe a single fucking thing that man says. You got that?"

 

"Whoa man...ya can chill. I ain't gonna do that."

The RED Scout held his gaze for a moment longer before relaxing and letting go of the other runner.

 

"Sorry pal, I'm just...Christ, I don't know. I just can't fucking believe that bastard would do that when _I'm_ still here. Man, that is _low._ "

 

"Yeah...I guess." The two directed their attention back down to the map below them. The BLU team had managed to get ahold of the first two points and were now battling for the final tower.

 

"Hey Nate," Frederick finally said, breaking the silence. "Ya know who that is?"

 

"Know who?"

 

"The orange dude over there." He repeated, pointing at the RED base. Behind the chain link fence that separated the map with the rest of the base was a black and orange figure, who was slinking around underneath the old wooden alcoves of the base.

 

"Nah pal. Who'dya think I am? Snipes? I can't see that freaking far, even if I knew who it was."

 

"Yeesh, I just asked. What'dya suppose he's doing?"

 

"Dunno. Maintenance I guess? I mean, ain't there where ya power thingy is…wait a sec! Ya dont think…"

 

The two scouts stared at each other for a second, the same thought going through both of their minds.

 

"Well, come on!" the RED Scout yelled, grabbing his bag and the other Scout as he jumped up. "We cant just sit here an'..."

His sentence was suddenly cut off as he fell over, his body going limp as if he'd just died.

 

'What the–" the other, still standing Scout began to say, but his curse was cut off as he was suddenly aware of a strange buzzing in his left ear, like if his headset was picking up interference.

Which was weird because that had _never_ happened before.

 

"Hey Nate! I'm alright pal! Ya don't need ta...Nate? Ya alrig–"

 

And then suddenly, there was the limbo of respawn.

 

* * *

 

Changelog 30-6-16

 

\+ added chapter

 

/ so...another shortish chapter. my bad, but the next chapter is going to be very action heavy (heh heh) and adding it here would've stretched it out to about 3K words. and also, I like cliffhangers.

/ speaking of diversions... *grabs snipes and spy* WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?! DON'T YOU SEE THAT TAG UP THERE?! *points to 'no romance' tag*. so yeah...not sure why I did that, but it's kinda funny. maybe. I don't know. gives scoots something else to blackmail snipes with.

// also, pyro looks adorable in a wig


	14. A simple misstep

And then suddenly, he was back.

 

But he was back on the scorched rocks of the cliff, with the face off his dopplegänger hovering over him, not within the wooden walls of their respawn.

 

"Whoa...what the freaking hell just happened?"

 

"I dunno…" Frederick shrugged and offered the other Scout a hand. "Come on. You weren't out long, so we might still be able ta catch that fella."

Nathaniel nodded and took the hand, pulling himself up to his feet. Grabbing his bag from where he'd left it on the ground, he broke into a run across the rocky divide.

 

"Hey! Hold on a sec!" the BLU Scout paused and looked back to his double, who was pointing at something in the battle below.

 

At least, at what used to be a battle.

 

The two teams had stopped their fighting for some reason and were crowded around in a small cluster. In the middle of the group, two forms were visible, one bright red and the other a slightly darker blue. The red one lay on the ground, not moving while the blue one was hovering over the fallen form, as if unsure of what to do.

 

"That's odd. What'dya think going on down there?" the red coloured Scout asked.

 

"Dunno...but we ain't got time for that. Come on!" Nate called, continuing his run along the plateau.

 

Jumping down from the cliff with a sickening (and rather painful) crunch, the duo ran around to the red coloured building where they had last seen the figure.

 

"Hey! Where'd he go?" The BLU Scout asked as the slowed to a halt at the fence. "Are we gonna have'ta climb this thing?

 

"I think so. Hey! There he is! Come on!" Grabbing the other Scout, he pointed towards to a rather large pile of gravel located just behind the base as the figure disappeared over its peak.

 

"Alright, let's do this." Nate said, cracking his knuckles and grabbing ahold of the wire.

The fence was considerably easier to surmount than the rock face and both scouts managed to scale it quickly.

 

"Alright." Fredrick said as he dropped down behind the blue one. "I'm gonna go 'round an' see where that guy went. You stay 'ere." before nate could object to this, he ran off in the direction of the gravel pile they had last seen the man at. He came running back a couple of minutes later.

 

"Alright." he panted. "He's just sittin' there on that pile, with a radio thingy. He's got some sort of weird armour, but he ain't armed, so I bet we can take 'im out real easy."

 

"So, ya got a plan."

 

"'Course I do. I'm gonna over the top and distract him while you go round an' shoot 'im from the back. Got that?"

 

"Yeah!" Nate grinned and pulled his force-a-nature out of his bag. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

The two set off towards the gravel hill, with Nate running around the left and Frederick trying his best to scale the hill as stealthily as he could.

 

As his companion was climbing the slope, Nate peaked around the corner to see just what they were facing. On the side of the pile, about half way up, sat a man wearing a set of orange body armour. The man himself had pale skin that looked like it hadn't seen enough sunlight and silver hair that came only with age. In front of him was a radio, which was currently absorbing all his attention. His armour was a bright shade of orange that he couldn't imagine was very stealthy, with a black emblem on his arm that consisted of what looked a bit like a u, but with more lines.

From the top of the gravel heap, Nate saw Rick pop up and give him a thumbs up. Giving the scout a thumbs up in return, he turned back to their mark.

 

And paused.

 

Only now, he noticed that lying in the loose gravel beside the armoured man, was a combat shotgun, painted in the same orange as his suit.

 

"Yo chucklenuts! Ya ain't gonna get a signal on that piece a crap! Trust me pal, I've tried."

 

The man froze and turned his head to face the scout above him.

 

"Shouldn't you be with your team kid?" he said, almost mockingly.

 

His insulter paused, obviously confused by this turn of events. He's expected the man to instantly attack, not to talk back at him.

 

"Ok, who the freaking hell are ya? An' I ain't a kid by the way."

 

"Really? I thought all the scouts were children. They're harder to hit that way."

 

"Wait, what?"

 

"You two really do act the same you know? Rash decisions, a fast talking mouth, the inability to fully examine the situation…"

 

"Dude, who the fuck are you? And what hell are ya talking about?"

 

Nate shrugged. That was a good enough distraction as any. Getting down onto all fours, he began to stealthily climb the hill.

 

"...and you always seem come in pairs."

 

What?

 

The man suddenly swung around and grabbed his shotgun where it lay on the ground and pointed it at the BLU Scout.

 

"Well, I was expecting a Spy, but that's as good a target as any." He smirked. "Put that gun down blue. And don't even  _think_  of touching that headset."

 

"Whoa." The Scout swallowed nervously as he found himself looking down the gun's barrel.

 

"Hmph. Amateurs."

 

"Oh really?" the cornered Scout let out a sly grin, his fear not entirely abated. "Says the person who made the fatal mistake."

 

"And what's that?" The man asked, lowering his gun slightly.

 

"Never turn ya back on a Scout pal."

 

The man looked up just in time to see the red form of the other Scout slam into him, his foot making contact with the orange metal plate on his back.

The momentum of the attack sent the man sprawling, giving Nate just enough time to duck out of the shotgun's sights.

 

Using the man's back as a starting point, the attacker pushed up off him into the air, twisting himself in mid air to fire off a shot at the man from his scattergun. While the shot wouldn't be enough to take down anyone, it would be enough to distract the man as Nate clambered up the hill, his own gun at the ready to shoot the man in the head.

 

At least, that was the plan.

 

The man suddenly rolled over, twisting himself out of the Scout's line of fire as he readied his own shotgun and pointed it at Nate.

 

There was a sudden bang and then the Scout felt his left leg light up in pain as it gave out on him, extracting a scream of pain from him as he crashed into the ground.

 

"Well then," The armoured man said, getting up and reloading the gun. "Are you going to put your gun away or am I going to have to shoot you too?" He asked, pointing the weapon at Frederick.

 

"Ya know death ain't really a threat when ya got respawn, so ya can shot all ya freaking want, ya ain't gonna stop me."

 

"Are you absolutely sure that you have respawn to fall back on though?"

The Scout paused, glancing from the man to his injured companion and back again.

 

"Goddamn it…" He finally muttered, lowering his scattergun.

 

The man let out a satisfied hmph and picked up his radio.

"Good boy. Perhaps you aren't as dumb as you look."

 

"Oh, ya wanna say that to my face p-"

 

"For Christ's sake Rick, will ya quit it? Ya ain't gonna win." Nate interrupted, taking both the stranger and the other Scout by surprise.

 

"Well–"

 

"And you, who the fucking hell do ya think ya are?" The injured scout glared up at the man. "'Cause lemme tell ya pal, this ain't the last ya seen of us."

 

"Who am I?" He gave a short, warm laugh as if he was sharing a joke. "I'm more of a what if you ask me. Just like you."

 

"Fine,  _what_  the fucking hell are ya?"

 

"I am the Commander."

 

"Fine,  _Commander_. Lemme tell ya something. This ain't gonna be the last time ya see me. And pal, lemme tell ya somethin' – ya stupid armour ain't gonna help ya then." He looked at his wound and winced. "Christ, can ya get Doc Rick? I reckon I'm dying here. I didn't even know I had that much freaking blood…" His sentence trailed off as his head slumped back onto the ground, his face suddenly very pale.

 

The RED Scout nodded and ran off in search of help, leaving the commander alone with Nate.

 

And then, the world slowly faded away from Nathaniel.

 

* * *

 

"...look Doc, ah don't care  _how_ , I want, no  _need_  ya ta hurry up 'ere."

 

"Dell, this is not something that can be rushed. Contrary to vhat you might think, I can not heal everything with a medigun."

 

"Well then, why doncha try an' remedy that fact, instead of whining about it like a–"

 

" _Vhat do you think I haff being doing for the last five years?!_ "

 

"Ah don't know, but it ain't enough if ya can't heal a man in a day, ya ain't trying hard enough."

 

There was an odd silence, in which the freshly conscious Scout finally opened his eyes. He was back in the infirmary, lying in one of the beds, but for some reason, he couldn't remember why.

 

On one side of his bed, he could see the Engineer, his arms crossed as he glared across the bed with un-goggled eyes. Across from him was the Medic, his tall form contrasting sharply with the Texan's stout one.

While the Engineer didn't look worse for wear, the same could not be said about Medic. His face was even paler than usual and his demeanour of haughtiness was gone, replaced by one of stress and fear. He had swapped his lab coat for a white rubber apron, which was covered in what looked like day old blood, along with his rolled up shirt cuffs.

 

Muttering something in German at the engineer, he turned to Scout and let out what sounded like a sigh of relief.

 

"Scout! You're back! Finally…" He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, which Scout now noticed were black with lack of sleep. "Dell you vill haff to leave now…"

 

"Nope." He responded, looking down at the Scout with a look of disapproval. "Ah need ta talk to Scout 'ere."

 

"That is not possible."

 

"It is if ah say it is. Lemme remind ya who's in charge of this team. Now Scout, ah need ta to tell me what 'appened out there."

 

Scout looked up at the Engineer and swallowed.

"I...I can't remember. I mean…" he froze as the event slowly came back to him. "There was this guy. Called 'imself the Commander. An'...an'..." the Scout trailed off.

 

"And what?"

 

"An' he shot me." Scout's voice lowered to an almost inaudible whisper as he spoke. "He shot me and he...he almost killed me. That's...that's the closest I've been ta death in…" His voice finally stopped.

 

 

"Scout? What in tarnation are ya doing?" the Engineer angrily snapped at him. "Ah don't know what ya think ya doing, but it aint working."

 

"Dell." The Medic said, his voice suddenly frighteningly cold and harsh. "Out."

 

"Doc, ya can't do this. Ya know he's fakin' right?"

 

"Get out of my office Dell.  _Now_."

 

The Engineer said something in retort, but whatever it was, it was lost on the Scout. The entire world seemed to fade away. His mind seemed to be working faster than he could keep up with, thoughts appearing into existence too fast for him to even realise they were his. He'd been dying. That man had nearly killed him and for what? He'd shouldn't of let that happen – he was better than that! He couldn't of let that happen…

 

"Scout?" Medic asked, his attention now on the runner having successfully gotten rid of the engineer.

 

"My god…" He whispered, his breathing suddenly fast and erratic.

 

"Scout, listen," The Medic swallowed nervously. It had been an odd thirty years since he'd had to this and he was desperately hoping he hadn't forgotten anything.

 

"I failed."

 

"Scout, you–"

 

"I...I failed...my god…" His arms suddenly jerked up and medic quickly grabbed them before he could do any damage. "I...I'm not meant to fail. I  _can't_ fail. I'm the best there is and that means I can't fail, not even for one second. I failed an' the admin's gonna fire me 'cause Sol's right – I'm not good enough to be on this team an' then and then you guys are gonna fail an' then that guy's gonna get me an' then an' then he's gonna kill me an' then he'll get you guys an' then an' then an' then an' then…" He repeated those last two words like a broken record, his mind unable to focus on anything else.

 

"Scout, listen." He took off his glasses and looked the Scout in the eyes. "You're safe."

 

Slowly, the Scout's voice slowed and then stopped. His body was cold for some reason and he realised he was uncontrollably shivering.

 

"He von't get you here – vi haff Heavy and the Sniper and Pyro and the Engineer and the rest of the team."

 

"But…" the scout said, panic once again rising in him.

 

"It's fine. I promise."

 

The Scout paused for a second and slowly nodded, as if still unsure of the statements truth. Bringing the cover of the bed closer to him, he curled himself into a ball against the head of the bed and sat there, still breathing hard and sweating profusely.

 

"I'm fine...I'm fine…" The Scout's breathing slowed, but only by a tiny bit. "I...I can't be here anymore." He drew the covers closer, so that it nearly covered his face. As he did so, it revealed his left leg, which was bare except for a long, straight line of stitches down it from where the Medic had removed the shot from his leg.

 

Upon seeing the line, his breathing caught in his throat as he stared at it, his eyes once again unable to focus on anything else.

 

And then suddenly, he was back to when it happened. Frozen in place, unable to do anything as the man once again threatened one of his only friends. Unable to do anything but tell him to back down and give up.

 

Unable to do anything as he lay there blood everywhere and his mind fading back into darkness.

 

* * *

 

changelog 3-7-16

 

+added chapter

 

/ man, I really need to update the summary - this story is a far cry from the comedy I once intended it to be

/ also, remember, half-life happened in the 2000s - this story is set in 1974 - does that answer your question?


	15. What we don't know...

Three hours.

 

It had taken three hours for Scout to calm down, and even then, he was on the constant verge of freaking out again. It had take all of Medic's willpower, along with a healthy dose of drugs to get him into that state and the doctor was on the verge of collapse. First Soldier and now this? It was all too much.

 

The door opened and the Medic jerked his head off his desk. He couldn't fall asleep now, no matter how much he wanted to. These dummkopfs were always hurting themselves and leaving them for even a minute by themselves would mean…

 

"Mrmph?" The muffled voice of the Pyro asked as it walked into the room.

 

"Vhat?" The thing pointed at Scout. "Fine. Just don't...just be careful."

The Pyro nodded and walked over to the Scout

 

"Scmrph?"

 

The Scout didn't react, instead staring off into the distance, his eyes far away and unseeing. The thing tilted it head in concern and confusion, letting out a muffled 'huh' as it did so.

 

Pulling up a chair, it sat down next to the Scout. The runner was sitting up, one arm hugging his legs to his chest and the other awkwardly held to his side, constrained by the IV tube embedded in it. Beside Pyro, an unopened can of crit-a-cola and a half-eaten sandvich lay on a bedside table beside the Scout's bed.

 

Slowly, the seconds stretched into minutes and yet the Scout had not moved.

 

The firebug waved a hand in front of the scout, finally dragging the runner out of his trance.

 

"Christ!" He yelled, snapping his head to face the Pyro, a look of surprise and horror on it. The scout stayed like that for a moment, before looking away, his breathing now abnormally fast.

 

"I'm fine." He muttered. "I'm fine." Slowly, his breathing slowed. "I just need...a little time. I'll be fine." He let out a shaky sigh and turned to the Pyro again. "Uh...hey?"

 

"Ymm mrph?"

There was a moment of silence as the Scout tired (and failed) to make out what the masked figure was saying.

 

"Uh... I'm fine if that's what you're asking."

 

The Pyro sighed and patted Scout on the head, eliciting a small noise of annoyance from him.

 

There was another moment as silence as the Scout tried to ignore the Pyro, in the hopes that it might get bored and go away. Right now, he just wanted to be left alone and perhaps try and sleep.

 

The firebug sat silent for a moment, before pulling out something and putting it in front of the Scout.

The Scout looked at it for a few seconds before looking back at the Pyro with a look of disbelief.

 

"Seriously? A pony? Jesus, how old do ya think I am? Five?" He gave the blue plushie before him a poke.

The Pyro shoulders slumped as if hurt by the comment.

 

"Jeez...look, I'll put miss...rainbow butt here, OK?" He asked, putting the pony on the bedside table beside his half-eaten dinner. The Pyro nodded.

 

Behind the Pyro, the door to the room opened once more and the form of the Engineer walked in.

"There ya are Py. Ah thought ya would be asleep now. Ah mean, ah don't know what time it is in that little world of yours is, but it's runnin' late out 'ere. You should run along now while ah talk ta Scout 'ere."

 

"Enrmph…" Pyro sighed through its mask. "Lmmph hrm alrmn."

 

"Py...ah'm sorry, but that ain't an option right now. Ah need that information now.

 

"Nrm." The Pyro got up and folded its arms, blocking the Engineer's path to the Scout.

 

"Pyro, step away from Scout right now." After seeing that the Pyro wasn't going to move, he continued. "I've put up with enough of ya dell-u-sions for one night. Ya need ta move along ta bed while tha adults talk." The tone of his voice more sounded like he was telling off a disobedient child rather than a highly unstable pyromaniac. "Now ain't the time for ya little games."

 

"Dell? Vhat is going on here?"

 

The engineer jumped to face pale form of medic, who was looming over him like some sort of twisted guardian angel. He had been roused from his nap by the duo's arguing and was glaring at the two angrily. Archimedes was on his shoulder and the dove seemed to mimic its master's expression.

"Josef! Ah…"

 

"Do not 'Josef' me Dell. Vhat are you doing here? I told you _very explicitly…_ "

 

"Look Doc, ah need that information an' tha administrator ain't gonna accept excuses. He's _fine_ ain't he? Ah mean, he can talk, right?"

 

The Medic took off his glasses and muttered a long string of German curses before putting them back on and turning his attention back to the stubborn Texan.

"This situation is _extremely_ delicate and I can not haff you barging in and risk doing any more damage. He is suffering from shock and–"

 

"Doc, he's a _Scout_. Them two are more darn resil-iant than an infestation of bunnies. He'll be _fine._ Ah guarantee ya, he'll bounce back ta his annoying self in tha morning. Ah mean, it's just ah leg fulla buckshot, right? Ya can heal that, can't ya?"

 

"Scout nearly died of blood loss Dell. He vill require more than just a few minutes with a medigun."

 

"Then why aren't ya doing these things?"

 

"Dell, vhat do you take me for?" The anger in the Doctor's voice had grown to an impressive level that scared even the Pyro. "A miracle worker?"

 

"A quark who happened ta stick a buncha junk an' a tube o' Australium together an' got lucky. A 'doctor' whose only qualifications come from tha same people tha thought it a good idea ta exterminate an entire religion."

 

The was a moment of silence as the Medic stared at the engineer in disbelief and fury.

 

"Dell," He finally said, his voice suddenly very quiet and very cold. "I vould think _very carefully_ before you open your mouth again. I haff saved the lives of more people than you even know. I haff survived the front lines of the war on the losing side. I haff brought dead men back to life and I haff created gods. I am above your concepts of good and evil. I am the übermensch." He let out a grin that could only be described as evil and pulled out a bone saw from behind his back. "And above all, remember that I can end lives as easily as I can save them. Remember that I can change the tide of battle as easily as you can place a sentry. And remember that I, and I alone am the only one with the power to heal and resurrect here. So vhat vill you do Dell? Vill you let me do my work in peace or vill you foolishly question my abilities again?" Throughout his little soliloquy, the German had been slowly advancing towards the engineer, and was now directly in front of him, the bloodied and sharpened point of his übersaw at the man's throat.

 

"Look, ah don't want…"

 

"Get out of my office _now._ " He growled, jabbing the Engineer's throat. "I vill do this if you do not comply."

The Engineer went very pale and quickly excused himself, leaving the trio alone.

 

"Vell…" The Medic said, adjusting his glasses and putting the saw back on his belt.

 

"Christ…" scout swore, unsure of what to say or think. On one hand, he was glad that the Medic had managed to intervene, but on the other, he was seriously starting to question the doctor's sanity.

 

The Medic went over to scout and the IV stand next to him, muttering something in German that sounded science-y to Scout.

The Pyro mumbled something that might've been an apology, only to have it dismissed by a wave of the Medic's free hand as he fiddled with the stand.

 

"It vasn't your fault – I should've been paying more attention. I shouldn't of fallen asleep…" He sighed. "You should go now. It's late."

 

"Wmph hbmph hrm?"

 

"I'll...I'll be fine. Like always." He finished with the drip and after making sure that the needle was still in Scout, turned to face the Pyro.

 

"Nrm." The Pyro sat down again. "Ymph grm slmmph. Ymph nrrmd mph."

 

"But…"

 

" _Slmmph._ " The Pyro repeated, gesturing at the door.

 

The Medic sighed and gave up arguing with the thing. Going over to the desk to pick up his lab coat, he turned off the desk light and went to the door.

 

"Wait, wait, ya just gonna leave me here with...him? I mean, how dya know she aint gonna set fire to me…" He trailed off when he saw Medic's withering glare."

 

"She won't set you on fire. If Pyro wanted to do that, she vould've done so already. Godt nacht Scout." he flicked off the light switch and left the room.

 

"Good night…" Scout said, but the Medic had already left.

 

* * *

 

Between the events that still haunted his mind and the figure of the Pyro beside him, Scout wasn't entirely sure how he'd fallen asleep, but it had happened somehow as the next thing he remembered was opening his eyes to find the room lit with the dusty yellow glow of the new mexican sun and a plate of pancakes on his bedside table.

As he sat up, he noticed that he was now alone. The seat the Pyro had been in was now vacant, along with the Medic's desk chair. The only other living thing in the room was a pristine white dove that vigilantly watched him the end of the bed.

 

After managing eating one pancake (he still wasn't feeling that hungry), Scout managed to stretch over and grab the bit of paper from the chair, no small feat as he refused to just get up out of bed and get the thing.

One side of the sheet was littered with chemical equations and weird sketches in black ink that Scout might of been to identify at one point, had he actually managed to pass high school chemistry. Opening the paper up, he found that the other side was full of text that was written in a cursive hand to neat to be anyone but Spy or Medic, but in a pink pen.

 

Deciding it was too early to try and figure out just who had written the letter, scout turned his attention to its contents. Scout found that with his rather limited reading skill, the cursive was exceedingly difficult to read, but after several minutes of hard deciphering, he managed to read it.

 

_Left early cause Engie wanted to have meeting and doc didnt want to wake you – sorry! Hope hippocrates is good enough company._

_Snipes made you pancakes! Make sure you save some for 'dash. And me! I havent had breakfast! Or supper, now that I think about it._

_Also, red Scoots popped by a few minutes ago – wanted ta see if you were alright. Said he was sorry he didnt come earlier._

_Anyways, Doc said that if youre feeling alright, you should come over to the red meeting room – he said that there should be bandages for your arm on the desk and that your clothes are by your bag. Be careful with your leg though! And with the needle in your arm. Needles are sharp!_

 

_Also, can you save this? I was meant to do something with it, but I forgot what. Maybe set it on fire?_

 

The Scout re-read the note several times, slightly bemused by its tone.

 

And alarmed by the fact that _there was a giant freaking needle in his arm_.

With a jerk, he removed the (frighteningly long) needle from his arm and got out of bed in search of some bandages. Finding them on the desk like where the note promised they'd be, he wrapped his arm thoroughly before using the leftover material to wrap his hands up in their usual bindings.

 

Trying not to look at the huge scar running down his calf, he quickly found his pants and shoes and put them on, glad to have something covering the deformity.

 

Feeling somewhat like his usual self again, he swung his bag on his back, only to pause and take it off again to put the pony doll in it. He'd have to give that back to Pyro as soon as he saw it again.

 

Shoving the note in his pocket, he picked his hat up from where someone had put it on the hatstand and left the Medic's office in search of the meeting.

 

* * *

Now loading ctf_2fort...

* * *

 

It took him longer than expected to find the room, mainly because no one had bothered to tell him that while their bases where exactly the same, they were mirrored in their design. After several minutes of trying to figure out why the corridors were going in the wrong direction, he finally managed to stumble into the meeting room.

The doors opened automatically, alerting the eighteen people gathered there to his appearance. There was a stunned second of silence, before someone reacted.

 

"Nate! Ya alright!" The RED Scout exclaimed. "Man, I was worried that ya Medic had done some sorta weird shit to ya…" he trailed off, suddenly very aware of the Medic in question's glaring look.

 

The RED Spy coughed, drawing everyone's attention back to him.

"As I was saying…"

 

"Ya weren't saying anything pardner." Linus drawled from his position on a red coloured dispenser. "We spent tha last ten or so minutes arguin' over whose fault tha breach was."

 

"Fine. we were _discussing_ whose fault zhe breach was."

 

"Perhaps gentlemen, we should be discussing what we know about this trespasser before we discuss whose fault it was." Miss Pauling inputted from the corner of the room, "now that the entirety of RED _and_ BLU is here…"

 

"...we should follow the itinerary?" the BLU Spy suggested, blowing out a cloud of cigarette smoke as he did so.

 

"Alrighty then." Dell said, getting up off the table and moving to the frount of the room. "Using tha information that ah extracted from _Frederick_ …" He glared at Nate as he mentioned this. "Ah've managed ta conclude tha our trespasser was not from Aperture like Spah said, but from Black Mesa. Like ah said all this while." he smiled smugly at the blue suited Spy as he did so.

 

"Hah!" The BLU Sniper yelled, jumping up and pointing at the Spy. "I bloody well told ya so! I can't bloody believe ya thought _I_ would…"

 

"Bruce, Bruce, can you zlow down and please explain to me what you are talking about?" The spy requested, a look of confusion on his face.

 

"Gentlemen!" Miss Pauling yelled, not wanting to have a repeat of what happened last time. "Settle down this instant…"

"...or else I throw this at ya." The RED Sniper threatened, pulling out a jar of jarate.

 

"...Lawrence, there's no need for _that_."

 

"Wot? It'll get these two buggers ta shut up."

 

Miss Pauling rolled her eyes and turned back to the Engineer.

"Please continue Dell."

 

"Right. As ah was sayin' it was Black Mesa who attacked us. More specifically, tha Mu Division…"

The Engineer's explanation was suddenly interrupted by the chuckles of the Scouts.

 

"Ya sure it ain't the _moo_ division?" Nate asked.

 

"Ohh, were being attacked by _cows!_ Vicious, man-eating cows!" Fredrick added.

 

"YOU TWO!" One of the Soldiers yelled. "QUIET DOWN THERE."

 

"As ah was saying…" The Engineer continued after the laughter had died down. "The Mu Division. Now, Black Mesa's divided inta a buncha parts, or divisions, each with their own thing. For example, tha Tau Division is in charge of ya energy weapons, tha Lambda Division's incharge of in-er-dimensional science an' tha Mu Division is in charge of…"

 

"...of intelligence gathering, to put it zimply." The RED Spy intervened, stealing the thread of conversation away from the Texan. "Zhis 'Commander' figure is one of zheir best agents." striding into the middle of the room, he produced a notebook from his jacket pocket and began reading something from it. "I was unable to find zhe Commander's real name, or anything personal about him with the time I had, but I found out zomething else. Zhis man, whoever he may be, had strong connections with our predecessors. He was their announcer and when Helen.."

 

"The Administrator." Miss Pauling quickly corrected.

 

"...was trying to find the next group of mercenaries to be RED and BLU, he was considered to for a hypothetical class called 'The Commander', but was ultimatly rejected, with zhe role altered and going instead to miss pauling here. He zhen disappears from the records I had time to zearch before this meeting."

 

"From all zhis, I can conclude two things. Zhat Black Mesa chooses zheir agents carefully and zhat zhey are after us."

 

"But _why?_ " Lawrence impantaintly asked.

 

"Why? Zhat is easy. Zhey want zhe role of defence contractor, I do believe Linus explained zhat to you."

 

"I mean why the bloody hell _now?_ Why the bloody hell didn't they do it before?"

 

"Ah. Well, zhere role of defence contractor is being...reassigned I believe the word is, at the end of zhis summer. Now, while the company know as Aperture Science Innovations have gotten zhe position in recent years, zhere has been a recent scandal involving astronauts I believe zhat would and has cost zhem their chance at the position. Zhat leaves only two companies left for the choosing. Us at Team Fortress Industries and Black Mesa. However, as zhe actual weapon company here, it would be logical to conclude zhat zhe American government would choose _us_ to be the next defence contractor. However, if Black Mesa were to get ahold of our weapon designs, _zhey_ could pretend zhat our technology is zheres…"

 

"Yadda yadda, cut ta the freaking chase will ya?" Nate interrupted irritability.

 

"Zhe 'chase' iz zhat we are no longer at war with ourselves." He turned away from the mercenaries, but continued his monologue. "Zhis is no longer RED vs BLU, neither is it mann vs machine. Zhe tables have turned and we shall band together once more time if we want to ever fight in our war games ever again. We must ztrike back as one against thiz enemy, if not for zhe contract, but for our pride men, our jobs and quite possibly our lives. So, zhe question now iz," he spun around face them once more.

"Are you with us?"

 

* * *

**END OF PART 1**

* * *

 

changelog 8-7-16

 

\+ added chapter

\+ changed story status

 

/ so here we are. my story has ended, but only for the time being. the next part - The fortress division - will be up within a week or so, so keep an eye out for that. in the meanwhile, I'll be going through and editing my chapter so they make more sense and so medic sound more like a german. sorry if this was a little...abrupt, but I wasn't really sure how else to do this. also, this second bit will very likely be much longer than the first one, so don't worry too much.

/ one last thing - reviews. you've managed to slug your way through fifteen chapters of my writing, so why not leave a comment? doesn't have to be much, just something to assure me that I'm headed the right way and that I'm not telling my story to an empty audience.


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